Ready-money Mortiboy [by W. Besant and J. Rice].

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600039846-

i

READY-MONEY MORTIBOY.

% MiAitx-tstSuX Store.

{REPRINTED FROM "ONCE A WEEKry

IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. n.

WITH INITIAL DESIGNS BY F. W. WADDY.

LONDON:

TINSLEY, BROTHERS, i8 CATHERINE ST., STRAND.

1872.

(Ali ri^u Ti$tnied.f

J2^<f

BILLING, PRINTER. GUILDFORD, SURREY.

READY-MONEY MORTIBOY.

A MATTER-OF-FACT STORY,

CHAPTER THE FIRST.

with whom he spoke i
VOL. II.

WAS about this time Mr.
Mortiboy took to send-
ing for his lawyer three
or four times a week.
After each interview he
would be more nervous,
more shaken than before.
He kept the reason of
these visits a secret —
even from Ghrimes. But
to Lucy Heathcote —

re frankly of himself than

2 Ready-money Mortiboy.

to any other human being — ^the old man told some
of his perplexities.

" I am getting old, my dear, and I am getting
shalcy. I've a deal to trouble and worry me."

" But there is Cousin Dick, uncle."

" Yes, there's Dick. But it is all my property
that's on my mind. I always intended to do some-
thing for you two, my dear — ^always."

" Never mind that now, uncle."

** And perhaps I ought for the young Melliships
as well ; though why for them I don't know. And
I'm ill, Lucy. Sometimes I think I am going to
die. And — ^and — I try to read — the — Bible at
night, my dear ; but it's no use — it's no use. All
the property is on my mind, and I can think of
nothing else."

" Shall I read to you, uncle ?"

" No, child ! — nonsense ! — certainly not," he re-
plied, angrily. " I'm not a Pauper."

Being "read to," whether you liked it or not,
suggested the condition of such helpless impe-
cuniosity, that he turned quite red in the face,
and gasped. His breath was getting rather short.

Presently he went on complaining again.

" At night I see coffins, and dream of funerals
and suicides. Ifs a dreadful thing to have a
funeral going on all night long. I think, my dear,

A Matter-of-fact Story. 3

if I had the property off my mind, I should be
better. If it was safe, and in good hands, I should
be very much easier. If it was still growing, I
should be lighter in my mind. Dick is very good*
He sits with me every evening. But he can't be
with me when I am asleep, you know, Lucy : and
these dreams haunt me."

The old man passed his hand across his brow,
and sighed heavily. He could not bear even to
think of death ; and here was death staring him in
the face every night.

" I laiow I ought to make a will," he went on to
his patient listener, Lucy, who did not repeat
things — as the old man knew very well. " I ought
to ; but I can't, my dear. There's such a lot of
money, and so many people ; and after one is gone,,
one will be abused for not doing what was right ;
and — and — I haven't the heart to divide it, my
dear. It's such a shame to cut Property up, and
split it into pieces."

" Can't you take advice, uncle ?"

"I don't trust to anybody, Lucy. They're all
thinking of themselves — all of them." This, as if
he had been himself the most disinterested of man-
kind.

" There's Mr. Ghrimes. You trust him, uncle ?"

I — 2

4 Ready-money Mortiboy,

"Well — ^yes — I trust him. But then he s well
paid for it, you see."

Ghrimes got £200 a-year for his work, which a
London employer would have considered cheap at
five times that sum.

" And you trust Cousin Dick."

" Yes," said the old man, brightening up a little.
" I do trust Dick. I trust my boy. He is a great
comfort to me — a great comfort. He is very clever
—Dick is — he has a wonderful head for business.
He manages everything well. Look what a window
he got from London for your poor Aunt Susan's
memorial — and for twenty pounds. Oh, Dick does
everything well, and he's a great comfort to me.
But it is not only the division of the Property, Lucy
— think of the Awful Probate duty ! There's a
waste of money — ^there's a sacrifice : a most iniqui-
tous tax, a tax upon prudence ! I'm not so well off
as I ought to be, my dear — not so well as my poor
father thought I should be ; but I've done pretty
well. And the probate duty is a terrible thing to
think of — it's really appalling. Two per cent. 6n
money left to your son ! Thousands will be lost !
Dear me ! dear me ! Thousands !"

These confidences were for Lucy Heathcote
alone^ with whom the old man felt himself safe.

A Matter-of-fact Story. 5

No talk of property to Dick ; no confessions to
his son ; no asking of advice ; no offers of money.
So far from giving or lending, Mr. Mortiboy re-
ceived from Dick, every Saturday morning, a
sovereign in payment for a week's board, and two
shillings and threepence for a bottle of gin. While
pocketing the money, the parent never failed to
remind his son of the cheapness of his board, and
the fact that he was charged nothing at all for bed
and lodging. He always added, solemnly, that it
gave him great pleasure to entertain his son, even
at a loss.

As for their evenings together, they were always
alike. A single candle lighted the kitchen where
they sat : the father in a Windsor arm-chair, with
his bottle of gin at his elbow, and a long pipe in
his mouth; the son opposite him, with a short
pipe and another bottle. Between them a deal
table. As Dick grew tired of telling stories, he
used sometimes to beguile the hours by showing
his father tricks with the cards. Mr. Mortiboy,
senior, did not approve of games of chance. They
gave no opening for the prudent employment of
capital, and risked Property. Nor did he approve of
so-called games of skill, such as whist ; because
the element of chance entered so largely into them,

6 Ready'-mofiey Mortiboy.

that, as he argued, not the richest man was safe.
But his admiration was excessive when Dick
— feigfning, for the sake of effect, that his father
was a credulous and simple-minded person —
showed how thousands might be won by the turn-
ing up of a certain card ; telling which card had
been touched ; making cards hide themselves in
pockets, and drawers, and so forth. These feats of
skill, with the stories which, like a child, he loved to
hear over and over again, rekindled and inflamed
Mr. Mortiboy's imagination, previously as good as
dead, so that his fancy ran riot in dreams of un-
bounded wealth to be found in distant countries —
dreams which Dick could have turned to good use
had it not been for the want of nerve which had
fallen upon his father after Mr. Melliship's death.

Between eight and nine, the old man, who shows
signs of having taken as much gin and water as he
can well carry, rises to go to bed. Dick lights his
candle, and watches the tall, thin figure of his
father — stooping now and bent — climbing the
stairs.

He heaves a great sigh of relief, and closes the
double doors which connect the kitchen, built out
at the back, with the rest of the house.

" What has the old woman got for me ?" says

A Matter-of-fact Story. 7

Dick, unlocking a cupboard. " Steak again. Well,
where's the gridiron T

The economical principles on which Mr. Morti-
boy's household was conducted generally left his
son an exceeding hungry man at nine o'clock;
and, by private arrangement with old Hester, ma-
terials for supper were always secretly left out for
him.

Dick deftly cooks the steak, drinks a pint of
stout, and producing a bottle of brandy from the
recesses of the cupboard, mixes a glass of grog,
and smokes a pipe before going to bed.

"It's infernal hard work," he sighs to himself;
** and something ought to come of it — or what the
devil shall I do with Lafleur ?"

Then came a letter from that gentleman. Bad
news, of course ; had been to Paris ; done capitally
with his System for a time. Turn of luck; not
enough capital ; was cleaned out. Would his part-
ner send him more money, or would he run up to
town, and bring him some ?

He afterwards explained that the System was
working itself out like a mathematical problem,
but that he had been beguiled by the beaux yeaux
of the Countess de Parabere — in whose house was
the play — and weakly allowed her to stand behind

S Ready-money Mortiboy.

his chair. Dick quite understood the significance
of this folly, and forbore to make any remark. Bad
luck, indeed, affected his spirits but slightly, and he
was too well acquainted with his partner to blame
him for those indiscretions which the wisest and
strongest of men may fall into.

Out of the thousand pounds they brought to
England, only one hundred remained. Lafleur, in
three months, had had eight hundred ; Polly nearly
a hundred ; and a hundred remained in the bank.
Dick, in this crisis, drew out fifty, and went up to
town with it.

Lafleur was in his lodgings in Jermyn-street,
sitting at work on his System — an infallible method
of breaking the banks. He had a pack of cards,
and a paper covered with calculations. Occa-
sionally he tested his figures, and always, as it ap-
peared, with satisfactory results. At present he
was without a shilling — having lost the last in an
attempt to win a little money at pool, at which he
had met with provokingly back luck.

" I have brought you something to carry on with
for the present," said Dick, "and we must talk
about the future."

Lafleur counted the money, and locked it up.

" Permit me to remind my Dick," he said, in his

A Matter-of-fact Story. 9

softest accents, " that the three months are nearly
up.

" I know," replied Dick, gloomily.

." Let us go and dine. You can sleep here to-
night, if you like. There is a spare room. And we
can have a little game of cards."

They dined : they came back : they had a little
game of cards. At midnight, Lafleur turned his
chair to the fire, and lighting a cigarette, looked at
his friend with an expression of inquiry.

" Apres, my Richard."

Dick stood before the fire in silence for a while.

" Look here, Lafleur. Did I ever break a
promise ?"

" Never, Dick. Truthful James was a fool to
you."

" Very, well then. Now, listen to me.*'

He told how his father was falling into dotage ;
how he held tighter than ever to his money j how
the old man grew every day more fond of him ; and
how he must, at all hazards, contrive to hold on.

" The property is worth half a million at least,
Lafleur. Think of that, man. Think of five hun-
dred thousand pounds — two and a half million
dollars — twelve and a half million francs ! The old
man keeps such a grip upon it that I can touch

lo Ready-mofiey Mortiboy,

nothing. Makes me pay him a pound a-week for
my grub. But I must hold on. It would be mad-
ness to cross or anger him now. You must wait,
Lafleur."

" I will wait, certainly. Make your three months
six, if you like — or nine, or twelve. Only, how are
we to live meantime ? Get me some money, Dick
— if it is only a few hundreds. Can't you get his
signature to a blank cheque? or — or — copy his
signature T

" No — quite impossible. He hardly ever draws
a cheque ; and Ghrimes would know at once."

"Cannot the respectable Ghrimes be squared.
No } Ah ! Are there no rents that you can
receive ?"

" None. Ghrimes has a system, I tell you."
" Is there nothing in the house, Dick ?"
Dick started. The man had touched on a secret
thought. Something in the house } Yes — ^there
was something. There was the press in his father's
bed-room, the keys of which were always in old
Ready-money's possession. There were gold cups
and silver cups in it ; plate of all kinds ; jewellery
and diamonds ; and there was, he knew, at least
one bag of gold. Something in the house } He
looked fixedly at Lafleur without answering.

A Matter-of-fact Story. ii

Lafleur lighted another cigarette ; and crossing
his legs with an easy smile, asked casually —

" Is it money, Dick ?"

Dick's face flushed, and his eyebrows contracted.
Somehow, he had got out of sympathy with the old
kind of life.

"I don't know for certain. I think there is
money. Gold and silver things, diamonds and
pearls. No one knows the existence of the bureau
but myself. But I will not do it, Lafleur. I cannot
do it. The risk is too great."

" Then you shall not do it, my partner. / will
do it."

He went to his desk, and took out a little bottle
which he placed in Dick's hands.

" I suppose," he said, holding it lovingly up to
the light, ''that you are not ignorant of the
admirable and useful properties of morphia. This
delightful fluid — which contains no alcohol, like
laudanum — ^will send your aged parent into so pro-
found a slumber, that his son may safely abstract
his keys for an hour or so, and give them to me. I
should only borrow the gold, for the rest would be
dangerous. The risk of the affair, if properly con-
ducted, would be simply nothing. Or, another
method, as the cookery books say. Let us get an

12 Rcady-mofiey Mortiboy,

impression of the keys in wax. That you can do
easily. I know a locksmith — a gentle and amiable
German, in Soho— whose only desires are to live
blamelessly — and to drink the blood of kings. He
will make me a key. You will then, on a certain
night, make all arrangements for my getting into
the house."

" Is that stuff harmless ?"

" Perfectly. I will take some myself to-night, if
you like."

" Lafleur, I will have no violence.*'

" Did you ever see me hurt any one ?"

" No, by gad !" cried Dick, with a laugh. " But
youVe sometimes stood by, and seen me hurt
people."

It had indeed been Dick's lot to get all the
fighting, though it was hardly delicate to remind
his partner of the fact.

" It IS true," he said, with a slight flush. " There
are many gentlemen in the United States and
elsewhere who bear about them the marks of your
skill. I will not harm your father, Dick. As for
the money, it will be all yours some day, you
know. And he can't spend it."

" I don't want to hear arguments about taking
it," said Dick. " I want it, and you want it, and

A Matter-of-fact Story, 13

that's enough. But I will not run any risk, if I
can help it. Good heavens, man ! think of letting
half a million slip through your fingers for waiit of
a little patience."

" My dear Dick, I will manage perfectly for ydu.
Make me a plan of the house. Get me a bed, be-
-cause I am a commercial traveller. Let me have
.a map of the roads between the station and the
house.*'

"There are two stations. You can arrive at
nine-thirty, despatch your business, and take the
night train by the other station to Crewe, at
eleven-thirty."

" Better and better. Now for the plan."

With pen and paper, Dick proceeded to construct
a plan and sketch of his father's house. The bed-
room was one of three rooms on the first floor, the
other two being empty. At the back of the house
was a window opening on the garden. Old Hester
slept in a garret at the top ; Dick himself in Aunt
Susan's room, on the second floor. Neither was
likely to hear any little noise below.

" My father never locks his door, in case of fire,"
said Dick, completing his plans. "All you will
have to do is to walk in, and open the press which
stands here, where I mark it in black lines. You

14 Ready-money Mortiboy.

cannot make a mistake about the door, because the
other rooms are locked. And don't take out a
single thing except the money. When shall it be ?**

" As soon as we can get the key made.**

" Good ! I'll administer the morphia, and get
the key for an impression. To-day is the first : we
had better say in about a fortnight."

" Say this day fortnight, unless you write any-
thing to the contrary — the fifteenth.**

The pair, sitting at the table, with pencil and
paper, arranged their plans quickly enough. In
half an hour, Lafleur put the papers in his pocket,
and slapped his partner on the back. Dick, how-
ever, was gloomy. He was planning to rob his
father the second time, and he remembered that
the first had not been lucky. Like all gamblers,,
he was superstitious.

While his son was preparing to rob him, Mn
Mortiboy, senior, was lying sleepless in his bed,
with a new determination in his head keeping him
awake.

"I'll do it,*' he said to himself— "I'll do it
Battiscombe and Ghrimes may say whatever they
like, and Lyddy may think what she likes. Dick
is the proper person to have my property. He
won't waste and squander. He won't be got over

A Matter-of-fact Stoty. 15

by sharks. He knows how to improve and take
care of it. I can trust Dick."

In this world, to bebelicved in is to be successful ;
and old Mr, Mortiboy believed in Dick.

" What a son," he said, " to be proud of: what a
fine son ! Thank God for My Son Dick !"

CHAPTER THE SECOND.

O need of morphia to get at the keys ;
for, the very next night, Mr. Mortiboy
dropped them out of his pocket as he
rose to go to bed. They lay on the
chair ; and his son, after dutifully escorting his sire
to the foot of the stairs, went back, and took an
impression of them. The operation took him
three minutes and a half; and he then mounted to
his father's bedroom, and gave back the bunch.

" A very dangerous thing," said Mr. Mortiboy —
" a most dangerous thing : a thing I have never
done before. A blessed chance, Dick, that it was
you who picked them up. A Providence — quite."

A Providence — perhaps; because dispensations
of all sorts happen. It is not fair to lay all the

A Matter-of-fact Story. 17

good things at the feet of Providence, and none of
the bad. Dick put his wax impressions in a cough-
lozenge box, and sent them to Lafleur, who briefly
acknowledged their receipt.

His spirits began to rise again as the time for
the exploit approached. He went about the house,
surveying it with a critical eye — estimating the
probability of Hester hearing any thing — wondering
if Lafleur would do it cleverly — making calm and
careful preparations. He prised out two rails in
the front garden at night ; because the gate was
always locked, and gentlemen do not like to be
seen clambering over rails. He placed the ladder
in readiness behind the water-butt, where it could
easily be found. He rubbed candle-grease on the
window, to make it open noiselessly. He put oil
into the lock of the press, when his father was at
the bank. He ascertained that there was no moon
on the fifteenth. He found out from a book on
medicine what amount of morphia would send a
man to sleep.

"And now," he said to himself, " I can't do any
more. The old man shall have his draught. La-
fleur shall do the trick. I will remove the ladder,
and destroy the evidence ; and next day there will
be the devil's own row ! Ho ! ho ! ho !"

VOL. II. 2

1 8 Ready-money Mortiboy.

Dick shook his sides with silent laughter as he
thought of his father's rage and despair at having
been robbed.

" What if I rush to the rescue ? Suppose I hear
a noise, run downstairs with nothing on, but a pistol
in my hand, fire at Lafleur just as he gets out of
window, and rush to my father's assistance ! What
a funk Lafleur would be in."

But he abandoned the idea, though extremely
brilliant, as too dangerous. The report of the
pistol might attract a policeman.

It was impossible to tell from his behaviour that
anything was in the wind. Careless and jovial by
nature, he played his part without any acting. He
had little anxiety about the robbery, because things
were planned so well. As for misgivings and
scruples of conscience, they had vanished. In
place of them, he daily had before his eyes the
picture of his father tearing his hair at the dis-
covery ; his own activity in the work of detection ;
and the imaginary searching of the house, in-
cluding his own room, " by particular desire."

After all his experience of life, Dick was still
only a boy, with the absence of moral principle
which belongs to that time of life, all a boy's mis-
chief, and all his fun. One of the best fellows in

A Matter^f'fact Story, 19

the world if he had his own way — one of the worst
if anything came in his way. He was big, hand-
some, black-bearded. He had a soft and mellow
voice. He had gentle ways. He petted children.
When he had the power, he helped people in
distress. He laughed all day. He sang when he
was not laughing. He fraternized with everybody.
Men have been canonized for virtues fewer than
these.

" 111 do it," said Mr. Mortiboy at night. He re-
peated it in the morning as he dressed. He stared
very hard at Dick during breakfast. He sent for
lawyer Battiscombe after breakfast, and repeated
it to him.

" 1^11 do it at once," said the rich man.

"I have dissuaded you to the utmost of my
power," said his lawyer. " It is a most irregular
thing, Mr. Mortiboy. Think of King Lear."

" Mr. Battiscombe, do not insult my family," old
Ready-money cried, in great wrath. " It is thirty
years since I saw ' King Lear' at the theatre, but I
suppose it isn't much altered now. And may I
ask if you mean to compare my son, my son Dick,
with those — those — brazen hussies ?"

"Well — ^well — of course not. I say no more.

2 — 2

20 Ready-mofuy Mortiboy,

The instrument, sir, will be ready in a day or two,
and you shall sign whenever you please."

" The sooner the better, Battiscombe. Let us be
ready on the fifteenth : that is Dick's birthday.
He will be three and thirty. Three and thirty!
What a beautiful age ! Ah ! Battiscombe, what a
man I was at three and thirty !"

He was, indeed, a man ; one who denied himself
all but the barest necessaries of life, and was
already beginning to break his young wife's heart
by neglect and meanness.

This was on the fifth of the month. There yet
wanted ten days to the completion of Mr. Morti-
boy's design. He spent the interval in constant
talk with Dick, who could not understand what it
all meant.

" Let us walk in the garden, my son," said his
father. " I want to talk to you."

The days were warm and sunny, and the garden
had a south aspect. The old man, with his arms
behind him, stooping and bent, with his eyes on
the ground, paced to and fro on the gravel ; while
Dick, with his hands in his pockets and a pipe in
his mouth, lounged beside him, A strange con-
trast, not of age only, but of disposition. As the
mother, so the son. Dick's light and careless

A Matter-of-fact Story. 2 \

nature, and his love for spending rather than
saving, came from poor Emily Melliship.

" I want to tell you, my boy," said the old man
— " because I know you are careful and saving, and
have just ideas of Property — ^how my great estate
has been built up : how I have got Money."

He told him. A long story — it took many days
to tell — ^a story of hardness, of mean artifice, of
grinding the poor man's face, and taking advantage
of the credulous man's weakness; a story which
made the son look down upon his father, as he
shuffled beside him, with contempt and disgust.

" We're a charming family," Dick said to Lafleur
one day — "a delightful family, my partner. I
think, on the whole, that Roaring Dick is the best
of the whole crew. Damn it all, Lafleur, I'd rather
hang about gambling booths in Mexico ; I'd rather
loaf round a camp in California, and lay by for
horses to steal ; I'd rather live cheating those who
would else cheat you, shooting those who would
else shoot you, than live as my respected father and
grandfather have lived. Why, man, there isn't an
old woman in Market Basing who does not pro-
phesy a bad end to money got in their way,
and wonder why the bad end does not
come."

22 Ready-nwney Mortiboy.

"All very well," said Lafleur. "But I should
like to have half a million of money."

"Criminals!" growled Dick, pulling his beard.
" They'd call me a criminal, I suppose, if they knew
everything. Why don't they make laws for other
kinds of criminals ?"

" My friend," his partner softly sighed, " do not,
I implore you, begin your remembrances. Life is
short, and ought not to be troubled with a memory
at all."

" Perhaps it's as well as it is. By gad, we should
all be in Chokee ; and the virtuous ones, if there
are any, would have an infernally disagreeable time
of it, trying and sentencing. I should plead In-
sufficiency of income, and an Enormous appetite.
What should you say ?"

On the morning of the fifteenth of May, Dick
received a note from Lafleur, informing him of his
intention to execute their little design that evening.
He twisted up the note and put it in the fire, with
a chuckle of considerable enjoyment, thinking of
his father's misery when he should find it out.

Mr. Mortiboy was particularly lively that morning.
He chattered incessantly, running from one subject
to another in a nervous, excited way.

A Matter-of-fact Story. 23

" Be in the house at three to-day, Dick," he said,
solemnly. "A most important business is to be
transacted, in which you' are concerned. Mr.
<jhrimes is coming."

" Very odd coincidence," thought Dick. " There's
an important business coming off to night at ten,
in which you are concerned." However, he only
nodded, and said he would remember.

He spent his morning in completing the arrange-
ments for the evening, so far as anything remained
to be done. Then he went to the bank, as was his
-custom, and talked with the people who called on
business. They all knew him by this time ; and,
when they had fought out their business with
Ghrimes, liked to have ten minutes talk with the
^reat traveller, who dispensed his stories with so
liberal a tongue.

At three o'clock, Mr. Ghrimes — ^punctual and
methodical — arrived from the bank, and Mr. Bat-
tiscombe, with a blue bag, from his office. Mr.
Mortiboy heard them, and led his son by the arm
to the state-room — the parlour, which had not been
used since the day of the funeral. Once more, as
for an occasion of ceremony, the wine and biscuits
ivere set out.

Mr. Mortiboy shook hands with all three, and

24 Ready-money Mortiboy,

stood on the hearth-rug, as he had stood when last
they met together in that place. But this time his
hand was on his son's shoulder, and his eyes turned
from time to time upon him with a senile fondness.

" I am anxious," said Ghrimes, with a red face,
"that you" — ^here he looked at Dick — "should
know that I have done my best to dissuade Mr.
Mortiboy from this step. I think • it foolish and
wrong. And I have told him so."

"You have, George Ghrimes — ^you have," said
the old man.

"There is yet time, Mr. Mortiboy," urged his
manager.

" Nonsense, nonsense."

Mr. Mortiboy made a sign to the lawyer, who
produced a parchment from his bag, and handed it
to him.

"George Ghrimes," he began, "when my son
Dick was supposed to be dead, John and Lydia
Heathcote were my apparent heirs. Between
them and their daughters — for, of course, / should
not have fooled it away in memorial windows, and
hospitals, and peacockery — would have been divided
all my Property. I can understand their disap-
pointment. But they must also feel for the joy of
a father when he receives back a long-lost son — a

A Matter-of-fact Story. 25

son like Dick, rich, prosperous, careful, and with a
proper sense of Money. My son Dick has been
home for three months. During that time I have
watched him, because I do not trust any man
hastily. My son Dick has proved all that I could
wish, and more. He has saved me hundreds."

" He saved the bank," interrupted Ghrimes.

" He did. He has saved me thousands. He
has no vices — none whatever. No careless ways,
no prodigality, no desire to destroy what I have
been building up. What he is now to me I cannot
tell you, my friends — I cannot tell you."

He stopped to hide his emotion. The poor old
man was more moved than he had ever been
before, even when his wife died. Dick stared at
his father in sheer amazement. What on earth was
coming next ?

"And there is another thing. I am getting old.
My nerve is not what it was. If it were not for my
son Dick, and — and, yes, I must say that — for
Ghrimes, I should be robbed right and left by
designing sharks, I should lose all chances of
getting money. My Property is too great a burden
to me. I cannot bear to see it suffer from my
fault. I am going to put it into .abler hands than
mine. My son Dick shall manage it — it shall be

26 Ready-money Mortiboy.

called his. Dick, my son " — ^here he fairly burst into
tears — "take all — take all — I freely give it you.
Be witness, both of you, that I do this thing in a
sound state of mind and body, not moved by any
desire to evade the law and save money on that
Awful probate duty ; but solely out of the un-
bounded confidence I have in my son Dick." He
paused again. " And now, my friends, the work of
my life is finished. I hope I shall be spared for some
few years to see the prosperity of my boy, to mark
the growth of the Property, to congratulate him
when he gets Money."

Yes — all was Dick's ! Old Ready-money had
signed a Deed of Gift, passing away all his vast
wealth to his son with a few strokes of his pen.
The lawyer explained, while Dick was stupefied with
astonishment, that he was the sole owner and holder
of all the Mortiboy property. As he explained, Mr.
Mortiboy sat back in his easy chair, drumming with
his fingers on the arm, with a smile of intense satis-
faction. Dick held the paper in his hand, and
received the congratulations of the lawyer with a
feeling that he was in a dream.

They went away. Mr. Mortiboy, left alone with
his son, felt awkward and ill at ease. His effusion

A Matter-of-fact Story. 27

spent, and the deed done, he felt a kind of shame
— as undemonstrative people always do after they
have bared their hearts. He felt cold, too — stripped,
as it were.

" It will make no difference, Dick," he said, in a
hesitating way.

Dick only nodded.

" We shall be exactly the same as before, Dick,"

He nodded again.

" I shall go out, father, and recover myself a bit
I feci knocked over by this business,"

" Don't lose the deeds, Dick — give them to me to
keep."

But Dick had stuffed them in his pockets, and
was gone.

CHAPTER THE THIRD.

FTER paying a tribute ta
his father's extravagant
generosity by washing his
throat with a wine-glass of
Cognac in the pantry on
his way out, Dick Mortiboy
strode into the garden. He
felt the want of light, and
space, and air to appreciate
his father's act.

In the close parlour,
where old Ready -money
had in one great gift beg-
gared himself and made his

son a millionaire, he could not think.

A Matter-of-fact Story. 29

This rover of the seas went out into the air to
realize his position ; and then he did not do it in a
moment. What a change a few up-and-down
strokes of a pen can make ! It seemed impos-
sible. An hour before, Dick Mortiboy would have
sworn that he had lived too long in a world of sur-
prises to be surprised by anything. But the sudden
transformation of Lafleur's partner into the richest
man in Market Basing was almost too much even
for his adamantine nerves. The sensation of being
respectable was too new. He was a little staggered :
strode fast along the gravel paths of the old-
fashioned garden — now pale, now slightly flushed
—and, intense realist as he was, had a dim notion
of something unreal in his great stroke of fortune.
This feeling floated across his brain once or twice in
the first few seconds only. He felt the stiff* parch-
ment crumple in the grasp of his sinewy fingers.
This put dreams to flight : here was reality!

He held. possession in his hand.

He stood in his father's shoes, he hardly knew
how many years before he had expected to put
them on.

From the moment he had made up his mind to
stay with his father, he had played his cards well.
But the end of the game had come almost too soon.

30 Ready-money Mortiboy.

Life thus lost one fertile source of amusement for
Dick Mortiboy. And then the old man had out-
witted him after all. Closely as he had watched
him, he had never dreamed what was in the wind.
He had seen the effect Mr. Melliship's death had
had on his father, and had marked with interested
eye the signs of his mental decay. But the idea of
Ready-money Mortiboy making a transfer of every-
thing to him had never entered his mind.

The man who would have grudged him a coin*
gave him his hoards. Yet, in his heart, Dick had
not one spark of gratitude towards his father.

" I've had a good many facers in my life," he said
to himself, "but this is the most wonderful of
any. Twelve years* knocking about ought to make
a man equal to most accidents, but I don't suppose
that any accident ever happened that could hold a
candle to this. Fatherly affection must be a very
strong sentiment with some people. I don't feel
any such yearning after little Bill as the governor
must have had for me. Wonder if he repents his
ways, and is trying to make atonement ? Can't be
that. No, he thinks he has saved the probate duty,
and made a nominal transfer to his affectionate, his-
clever, steady, honest son, Richard, Wonder if he
thinks I'm going to let him have his own way "i'

A Matter-of-fact Story. 31

Can't be such a fool as that. Wonder if he believes
all he says ? Must. Most extraordinary old chap,
the governor ! What are we to do now ? Shall
we live in Market Basing, and ' see the property
grow ?' I don't think we can. Shall we undeceive
the old man ?"

His face grew dark.

"He treated me like a dog. He gave me the
wages of a porter. He starved me and bullied me.
He turned me into the streets with a ten pound
note. When I come home and pretend that I am
rich, he fawns upon me and licks my hand.
* Honour your father.' Now, I ask an enlightened
General Board of Worldly Affairs — if there is such
a thing — how the devil I can be expected to honour
Mr. Mortiboy, senior } Ready-money Mortiboy, is
he } Good. He shall have ready money for the
future, and not too much of it. What he gave me,
I will give him. I've been a forger, have I } I've
been a gambler and an adventurer — I've lived by
tricks and cunning for twelve years, have I } I've
been a bye-word in towns where men are not par-
ticular as to their morals, have I } I've done the
fighting for Lafleur, and the lying for both of us,
have I } I've been Roaring Dick, with my life in
my hand, and my pistol in my pocket, sometimes

32 Ready-money Mortiboy,

with a fistful of money, sometimes without a dollar,
have I ? And who^e fault ?"

He shook his fist at the Jiouse.

" And now I*m master of everything. My affec-
tionate father, your affection comes too late. I am
what you made me — an unnatural son."

He was gesticulating a little in his anger, like
Lafleur did when he was excited. He had picked
up the trick from his partner. And he was speak-
ing out in a loud tone of voice, and shaking his fist
at the bottom of the garden, near the old door he
had found locked on the Sunday morning when
he first met Polly after his return. And the door
had a very large keyhole, and there was an eye at
it watching him with considerable interest.

Polly was there.

" D-l-C-K," she whispered through the keyhole.

He heard it, swore, and thought the place was
haunted. His back was turned to the door.

" Dick," she called again, in a louder tone.

This time he knew the voice, and soon discovered
where it came from.

" Good gad— Polly !"

He did not look pleased.

He put his foot on the pump, and looked over.
She was dirty, and her clothes were very untidy.

A Matter-of-fact Story, 33

" Dick, what were you going on like that for ? I
saw you when you were up at the other end of the
garden, shaking your fist at your father's bed-room
window. What's he been doing of, Dick ?'*

" What do you want here at this time of the
day?" was the only answer she got to her
queries.

She did not dare to repeat them. She was afraid
of the man's anger.

" Dick," she said, " I want some money. Little
Bill's been took bad, and I've got nothing to send
him. Scarlet fever he's got."

" Polly, my girl " — he was still on his own side of
the wall — " you've had fifty pounds out of me in
three months. Bill can't cost all that, you know.
You'd better not try on any humbug, because I'm
not going to stand it."

" Now, who was } And he's had every farden of
it — except a pound or two I kep' for clothes myself.
But he wants it, Dick."

" Then /'ll take it to him."

The woman's expression grew obstinate and
stubborn.

" You take me to your father, and say, * Here's
my wife,' and you shall have his address ; not be-
fore, my fine Dick."

VOL. IT. 3

?1 l*^

34 Ready-inone)' Mortiboy.

" Then," said Dick, " you may go to the devil !
And marched away.

Polly waited a few minutes, to see if he would
come back ; and then she too walked off.

The evening was a silent and dismal one. Mr»
Mortiboy proposed a bottle of port to drink the
occasion. Dick suggested brandy instead ; and
the old man drank three tumblers of brandy and
water. In his excited state, the drink produced no-
effect upon him ; and he went off to bed at half-
past nine without the usual symptoms of partial
inebriation. Then Dick relapsed into a gloomy
meditation by the kitchen fire. He was aroused by
the clock striking ten, and leaped to his feet as if
he had been shot.

" Good Lord !" he ejaculated — " the very time for
Lafleur. I had forgotten all about him."

He kicked off his boots, and crept silently along
the passage and up the stairs. A light came
through the door of Mn Mortiboy's bedroom,
which was left ajar. He heard the sound of
money.

" Cunning old fox," thought Dick ; " hiding my
money, is he T

A Matter-of-fact Story, 35

Then he crouched down in the dark passage, and
waited.

The situation presently struck him as being in-
tensely comic. Here was the old man counting his
money in the bed-room, while Lafleur was proba-
bly getting up the ladder. Instead of sleeping off
a dose of morphia, Mr. Mortiboy was in a lively
state of wakefulness. Instead of robbing the father,
Lafleur would be robbing him. He chuckled at
the thought, leaning against the wall, till the floor
shook.

In five minutes or so, he saw a black form against
the window.

" There he is," thought Dick.

The real fun was about to begin.

Lafleur opened the window noiselessly, and
stepped into the passage. He moved with silent
steps, feeling his way till he came to the old man's
door. Then he looked in, and stood still, irresolute
— for the light was streaming out, and Mr. Morti-
boy was not even in bed.

Dick crept along the passage, and laid a heavy
hand upon his shoulder. Lafleur started, but he
knew the pressure of that hand : it could only be
Dick.

They peeped together through the half-opened

3—2

36 Ready-moftey Moriiboy,

door. Mr. Mortiboy had opened the doors of his
great press, and brought out all the contents. They
were scattered on the table. Gold and silver plate,
forks, spoons, cups, epergnes — all lay piled in a
heap. In the centre a great pile of sovereigns,
bright and new-looking. The old man stood over
them with outstretched arms, as if to confer his
blessing. Then he laid his cheek fondly on the
gold. Then he dabbled his hands in it, took it up,
and dropped the coins through his fingers. Then
he polished a gold cup with his sleeve, and mur-
mured —

" Dick knows nothing of this — Dick knows no-
thing of this."

And then Dick gently led Lafleur away, and
brought him silently to the kitchen, where, with
both doors shut, he sat down, and laughed till his
sides ached.

" Pardon me," said Lafleur, whose face was white
with rage and disappointment, " I don't see the
joke. Pray, was this designed as a special amuse-
ment for me V*

" I must laugh," cried Dick. " It's the finest
thing I ever came across."

And he laughed again till the tears ran down his
cheeks.

A Matter-of-fact Story, 37

Lafleur sat down doggedly and waited.

" And now," said Dick at last, " let us talk. It's
all right, partner, and you can have your five thou-
sand whenever you like."

*' Now ?" asked Lafleun

" Well, not now. In a few days. Hang it, man !
— ^you can't get a big lump like that paid down at
a moment's warning."

" Tell me all about it."

Dick told him in as few words as possible.

" It is all yours, Dick ?"

" All mine."

" You are rich at last. Good." He was consi-
dering how he might get his share of the plunder.
" Let me have a few hundreds to-night, Dick. I
lost a lot yesterday, and promised to pay to-morrow
evening."

" How can I ? To-morrow I can give you five
hundred from the bank, if you like."

" Too late. If it is all yours, the money upstairs
is yours. Let me have some of that."

Dick hesitated. Void of affection as he was to
his father, he yet felt a touch of compunction at
undeceiving him so soon.

" I meant to have an explanation in a few days.
But if you cannot wait "

38 Ready-money Mortiboy.

" I really cannot, my dearest Richard. It is life
and death to me. I must start from this respect-
able place to-night with money in my pocket."

" Then we must have our row to-night. It seems
hard that the old man should not have a single
night's rest in his delusion. However, it can't be
helped. Give me your duplicate keys."

He put on his boots, took a candle, and went
upstairs to his father's room. Mr. Mortiboy was in
bed by this time and asleep, for the explanation of
things had taken nearly an hour. Dick opened the
press, took out a couple of bags, such as those used
at the bank, containing a hundred pounds each, and
threw them with a crash upon the table. The noise
woke his father.

He started up with a shriek.

"Thieves ! — murder! — Dick ! — Dick ! — thieves !
—Dick !"

" It is Dick. Don't be alarmed, father. I am
helping myself to a little of my own property.
That is all."

The old man gasped, but could not speak. He
thought it was another of the dreadful dreams
which disturbed his nights' rest.

Dick sat on the edge of his bed, with the candle-
stick in his hand, and looked him in the face, pull-

A Matter-of-fact Story. 39

his beard meditatively, as he always did when he
was going to say a grave thing.

" It is quite as well, father, that we should under-
stand one another. All your property is now mine.
I can do what I like with it — consequently, what I
like with you. I shall not be hard on you. What
you gave me when I was nineteen, I will give you
now that you are getting on towards seventy. An
old man does not want so much as a boy, so the
bargain is a good one for you. A pound a-week
shall be paid to you regularly, with your board and
lodging, and as much drink as you like to put away.
The pound begins to-morrow."

His father put his hand to his forehead, and
looked at him curiously. He still half thought it
was a nightmare.

" It is not your fault that your estimate of my
character was not quite correct, is it ? You see,
you never gave yourself any trouble to find out
what I was like as a young man. That is an excuse
for you, and accounts for your being so easily taken
ill by my stories. I wanted your money, which
was natural enough. I knew very well that if I
came snivelling home like a beggar, a beggar I
should remain. So I came home like a rich man ;
flourished the little money I had in your face ;

40 Ready-money Mortiboy,

bragged about my estates, and my mines, and all
the rest of it. Estates and mines were all lies.
IVe got nothing. I never had anything. IVe
lived by gambling and my wits. This very nighty
if it were not for the deed of gift you have made, I
should have robbed you, and you would never have
found out who did it."

The old man's face was ghastly. Beads of per-
spiration stood upon his forehead. His eyes stared
fixedly at his son, but he made no sign.

" You see, my dodge succeeded. Dodges gene-
rally do, if one has the pluck and coolness to carry
them through. Now I*m worth half a million of
money. No more screwing hard-earned coins out
of poor people. No more drudging and grinding
for the firm of Mortiboy. The property, sir, shall
be spent, used, made the most of — for my own
enjoyment."

Still his father neither moved nor spoke.

"IVe lived, since you kicked me out into the
world, as I could — as a gambler lives. You have
told me, in the last few days, how you have lived*
Father, my life lias not been so bad as yours. IVe
held my own among lawless men, and fought for
my own hand, in my own defence. No one curses
the name of Roaring Dick — not even the men

A Matter-of-fact Story. 41

whose money I have taken from their pockets ; for
they would only have done as much by me if they
could. But you ? In every street, in every house
in this town, yours will be a memory of hatred. I
never robbed a poor man. You have spent your
life in robbing poor men. There, I've had my say,,
and shall never say it again. As for these things "
kicking the door of the press — " they will be all
sold. To-night, I only want the money. Go to
sleep now, and thank Heaven that you have got a
son who will take care of your latter days."

He took his bags, and left the room. His father
threw out his arms after him in a gesture of wild
despair, and then fell heavily back, without a sigh
or a groan.

Lafleur returned to London by the night train,
with the money; and Dick went quietly to bed,^
where he slept like a top.

In the morning, Mr. Mortiboy did not appear at
breakfast. Dick sent Hester up. His door was
wide open. The press was open, the gold and
silver plate lying about on the floor, as Dick had
left it. But the late owner of all was lying motion-
less on the bed. He was stricken with paralysis.
His power of speech and of moving were gone ; and
save for his breathing, you would have called him

42 Ready-money Mortiboy.

dead. Dick, with great thoughtfulness, had him
removed downstairs to his old study, where he
installed Hester as nurse and attendant, telling her
to get another woman for the house. He had all
the doctors in the place to attend his father, and
expressed, with dry eyes, much sorrow at the hope-
less character of the malady. Market Basing was
greatly exercised in spirit at the event, which it
considered as a "judgment," though no special
reason was alleged for the visitation. And all men
b^an to praise Dick's filial piety, and to congratu-
late Mn Mortiboy, or rather his memory, on having
a son — ^tali ingenio praeditum — ^gifted with such a
remarkable sweetness of disposition, and so singular
an affection for his father.

CHAPTER THE FOURTH.

HE duties of a son being performed, and
his father formally placed under the
charge of old Hester, Dick put the
keys of office in his pocket, and walked
over to the bank, where the news of old Ready-
money's paralysis had already been received.
Ghrimes and the lawyer were the only persons
who knew of the deed of gift.

" Don't he look solemn ?" asked the old women
of each other, as the afflicted son went down the
street.

" Such a son as he was, too ! Ah, better than
old Ready-money deserved."

Ghrimes, in the manager's office, was looking
over papers.

44 Ready-money Mortiboy.

" So," said Dick, shaking hands with him, and
sitting on the table, " you didn't approve of the
deed of gift, eh ? Never mind : quite right, and
just h'ke you to say so. However, that's all oven
YouVe heard of the old man's stroke, I suppose ?
Doctor thinks some shock must have accelerated
the final break-up. Shock of yesterday, I suppose.
He couldn't bear to see the money go."

This was strictly and literally true. Mr. Morti-
boy, though from his bed and not from his par-
lour, could not bear to see the n)oney going.

" However, it's all over now, and things are
changed. As for us two, Ghrimes, you have served
my father so well that I hope you will go on serving
me.

" I desire nothing better."

" Things will be different, I dare say, because I
am going to manage matters after another fashion ;
but we shall pull together ; never fear that. I pull
with everybody."

" I've been in the bank, man and boy, for sixteen
years. I should be sorry to leave it now," said
Ghrimes, half to himself.

"Of course you will not leave it. You will go
on managing. I'm not going to sit with my hands
in my pockets, but I am not a meddler."

A Matter-of-fact Story. 45

" And your estates in Mexico ? How shall you
manage about them ?" asked Ghrimes, in perfect
good faith.

" My partner has gone oiit," replied Dick, with
unmoved face, " to superintend them. I shall not
trouble about them."

" Indeed, you need not," said his manager, " for
there is work enough here for three men. Here, for
Instance, is a case — one of those cases which your
poor father would always decide for himself."

"Well, then, for once I will decide for myself.
What is it ?"

And here Dick began that course of social re-
form which has made him immortal in Market
Basing.

" It*s the case of Tweedy, the builder. What are
we to do with him } Your father always declared
that he would advance him no more money. His
bill is due to-day. He can't meet it, I know."
"Tell me all about him in a few words."
"Furniture dealer — cabinet-maker. Took to
building. As fast as he built got into difficulties.
Mr. Mortiboy advanced him money : got his houses.
Always in difficulties : will smash if we don't pre-
vent it : pays his workmen by discounting small
bills at the bank : is getting deeper every day."

46 Ready-money Mortiboy,

" What have we got out of him ?"

" About a dozen houses. That villa on the other
side of the river in Derngate, among others. All
profit, of course."

"That beats California. Send for him, and let
us see him."

The man came : a man with a craze for design-
ing and building ; born to be an architect, but
without an education ; might have designed a ca-^
thedral, but expended his energies on Gothic villas,
which he persuaded himself would make his fortune.
Old Mortiboy had been getting money out of him
for years.

" So youVe Tweedy, are you ?" said Dick, looking
down at the nervous little man from six feet one ta
five feet three. " I remember you when you had
your shop. Where is it now V

" I wish I had it now, sir," said the man.

"You would try to make your fortune, you know.
And you were conceited enough to think you could.
And what are you worth now ?"

" Nothing, sir."

" Nothing — and a bill of two hundred pounds to
meet. Now, Tweedy, suppose you go back to the
furniture shop. Don't look scared, man. Til give
you a lift That little villa that you put up be-

A Matter-of-fact Story. 47

hind Demgate — a good house, is it ? very well —
I'm going to live in it. Go up to town, and furnish
it for me. Furnish it well — well, mind. Pay trade
price, and charge yourself a fair profit. Get me
good things: no gimcracks. Have everything
ready in three days. The bill may stand over. If
you don't like this, say so."

The man began a flood of gratitude, which Dick
stopped by pushing him out of the door.

"He deserves something for building me a dozen
houses for nothing," he said, coolly ; " and I must
get the place ful-nished. I made up my mind to
live there this morning."

" One of your clerks, I am sorry to say, has em-
bezzled some money. I found it out last night —
though he does not know it yet."

" How much is it T'

*• Five pounds."

Dick winced. It was the exact amount of his
own forgery.

"What is his name, and what is his salary .?"

" Sullivan : he draws sixty pounds a-year."

Dick put his head out of the door, and shouted
to the office generally —

" Send Sullivan here."

A pale-faced lad of twenty-two, with a weak and

48 Ready-money Mortiboy,

nervous mouth, and a hesitating manner, came in
and shut the door, trembling.

"Well, Mr. Sullivan, and how about this five
pounds Y^

Mr. Sullivan burst into tears.

"The last clerk who embezzled money in this
bank," said Mr. Ghrimes, solemnly, " was tried for
the offence, and underwent a sentence of imprison-
ment for it."

" There, you see," said Dick.

Mr. Sullivan sobbed louder.

" You draw sixty pounds a-year : a princely
salary," continued his new master. " Do you drink,
or play billiards, or what, to get rid of so much
money ?"

" Nothing, sir."

" My young friend, you had better make a clean
breast of it to Mr. Ghrimes and me, or it will cer-
tainly be a case of the man in blue and chokee.
Now, think for a few minutes, and then answer."

The boy — he seemed little more— sat down, and
laid his head in his hands.

•* I cannot tell," he moaned. " I cannot tell you
both."

Dick s face grew soft. The man who had not
hesitated to tell his father the bitter truth, who

A Matter-of-fact Story. 49

had planned to rob him, who was devoid of scruples,
or of restraint, or of fear, had yet a heart that
could be touched. He could not bear the sight
of misery.

" Leave us for two minutes, Ghrimes. Now, my
boy, what did you do it for Y'

" I had to find five pounds for her ; and I bor-
rowed the money."

"Who is Iter? And why did she want five
pounds V

Then the story came out : how he wanted to
marry a girl, the daughter of a small tradesman ;
how he was forbidden to speak to her ; how they
took secret walks together ; how the old, old tale
was repeated ; how it became necessary for her to
leave home, and he had taken the money to help
her to go. And then more sobs, and more soften-
ing of Dick's heart.

"Go away now," said Dick, "and go on with
your work. I am not going to prosecute you.
Bring her with you this evening, at nine o'clock,
to Demgate."

The delinquent despatched, Dick proceeded to
ask for the salaries book. The cheapness with
which banking is conducted, as evidenced by the
salaries of the clerks, struck him as very remark-

VOL. II. 4

so Ready-money Moriiboy.

able. Mr. Ghrimes, who managed a business worth
many thousands a-year, received the magnificent
stipend of ^£"200. The other employes ranged from
j£"i20 to £so.

" Banking," said Dick, " seems about the easiest
and cheapest way of getting money ever hit upon."

"When youVe got your connection, it is," said
his manager.

" Would you mind calling in the clerks } Gen-
tlemen, I have no doubt," he said, addressing them
in a body, in his best book English, "that my
father's intention was to do just exactly what I am
about to do. It must often have occurred to him
that to ensure zeal, punctuality, and diligence, as
well as honesty " — ^here Sullivan trembled exceed-
ingly — "it is necessary to pay those gentlemen
whose services you secure as highly as is compati-
ble with your own interests." Here the clerks
nudged each other. " I am now acting as his re-
presentative. You used to call him ' Ready-money'
Mortiboy. He will still more deserve the title
when I inform you that all your salaries are raised
twenty-five per cent, from this moment." They all
stared at one another. " But if you get into money
difficulties, and don't tell me, you'll find yourselves
in the wrong box. Now, don't make a row, but go

A Matter-of-fact Story. 51

back to your work" — for the clerks were preparing
to make a demonstration of gratitude.

" And Sullivan/' said Mr. Ghrimes, " don't let us
have any more of that unpunctuality which I re-
proved you for just now" — for the clerk's eyes were
still wet with tears, and his fellows had been ques-
tioning him.

" Kindly said, Ghrimes," said Dick. " Now for
yourself."

That night Mr. Ghrimes went to bed with his
salary trebled, and a cheque for a thousand
pounds.

^ The clerk Sullivan appeared as the clock struck
nine at the house in Derngate, accompanied by a
young woman. The pair looked very young and
very forlorn. Dick opened the door himself, and
led them to his own room — ^that which had been
the parlour, where a few alterations had been hastily
made to suit his own tastes, previous to his re-
moval.

He made them sit down, and stood with his back
to the fire looking at one and the other.

" You are a pretty pair of fools," he said.

The girl began to cry. Her lover had spirit
enough to answer for her.

" She is not to blame. I am the only one."

4—2

52 Ready-mofiey Mortiboy,

" Do you want to marry him ?" asked Dick
bluntly of the girl.

She only cried the more.

•* Well, then, d^oyou want to marry her T

" I do — of course I do."

"Which would you rather do, my dear — run
away with him and be married in London, or be
married here and go up to London afterwards on
my business T

" Oh, here — here, Mr. Mortiboy. But they won't
let us."

" They will when I have seen your father. And
I will see him to-night. Now, have a glass of win^.
What is your name, child ?"

« Alice."

"Then, Alice, here's a glass of port for you.
Sullivan, if you ill-treat your wife, look out for
yourself. You will hear from me to-morrow morn-
ing. Good-bye, Alice, my dear. Give me a
kiss."

He went to the young lady's parent, and had an
interview with him ; the result of his arguments
being that a wedding took place the following
week.

Dick improved the occasion with his manager,
pointing out to him. the folly of putting young fel-

A Matter-of-fact Story, 53

lows in positions of trust without a salary sufficient
to keep them from temptation ; and he talked with
so much wisdom that Ghrimes began to regard him
as the foremost of living philosophers. Certain re-
flections, in the course of his life, Dick had cer-
tainly made. And he now began to act upon
them.

In two or three days the furniture arrived, and
the house beyond the river was rendered habitable,
under the superintendence of Mrs. Heathcote. It
was a small place, but big enough for a bachelor.
And then, as Mrs. Heathcote observed, it was
always easy to move, and of course he was not
going to remain a bachelor always. Dick per-
mitted the observation, in the presence of Polly —
who had been brought by Mrs. Heathcote to help
arrange and set to rights — to pass unanswered.

At first he announced his intention of having no
servants in the house at all ; but gave way at the
remonstrances of Mrs. Heathcote, who felt here the
family respectability was in danger.

" I will send you a nice old woman that I know,
Dick," she said — " one that I can recommend."

The nice old woman — ^who was not nice to look
at— came. She had a very bad time indeed, so
long as she remained. Dick had given special

54 Ready-money Mortiboy.

orders that she was not on any account to cross
the threshold of his smoking-room, an apartment
which he intended to keep sacred. He did not
lock the door ; and on the very first day the old
woman, urged on by the fury of feminine curiosity,
opened the door. The astute Richard had affixed
a cord craftily, one end being attached to the top
of the sideboard, and the other to the door. All
the glasses and decanters on his sideboard were
pulled off and broken. There went three months'
wages.

Dick disliked locking things up. The old wo-
man loved strong drinks. On the second day, she
drank out of a brandy bottle in which her master
had mixed a certain medicine. That night she
was very ill.

On the third day she was in his bed-room, where
Dick had slung a hammock, as being more com-
fortable than a regular bed. An open letter lay
on the table. She put on her spectacles and began
to read it, holding it out, as old people do, between
her hands. Dick, who was coming up the stairs —
the big man moved noiselessly when he pleased —
drew his pistol and fired — at her, she declared.
The bullet passed straight through the letter, within
an inch of her two thumbs. She dropi>ed the paper.

A Matter-of-fact Story. S 5

and fell backwards with a terrific shriek. Specta-
cles broken this time, too.

After that she resigned, and spread awful reports
about the house.

Then Dick was left servantless, and for a day or
two used to cook his steaks for dinner himself.

Mrs. Heathcote again came to his assistance.

" I don't know what you Ve done, Dick, but no
woman in the place will come here. If you fire
pistols at people, and poison your brandy, and tie
ropes round your glasses, how can you expect it ?"

" I didn't fire at her. I only frightened hen"

"Well, would you like Mary? She wants to
leave me — I don't know why. Says she must live
nearer her mother. Perhaps she'd come. She's
not so old as you might wish ; but she s a well-
conducted, handy woman, and I really think would
make you comfortable."

He hesitated. The plan offered a good many
advantages, not the least being that he would not
have Polly coming secretly to see him, which was
dangerous.

Dick had made a step in civilization. He began
to respect people's opinions.

On the other hand, it would be disagreeable to
have the woman always in the house. He chose at

56 Ready-money Mortiboy.

last to have a sort of day servant, one who should
come with as many attendant ancillae as might be
judged necessary, at eight in the morning, and de-
part at seven in the evening. He would have no one
sleep in the house. And to this decision, irregular
and un-English as it appeared to Mrs. Heathcote,
he adhered. Polly, however, left the service of Mrs.
Heathcote, and came to Market Basing to live with
her mother.

Of course. Market Basing could think of nothing
but this fearful and wonderful man. What he had
done last — ^what he was likely to do — whom he
would visit — ^were the chief subjects of their conver-
sation at this period. They used to go to Dern-
gate, and walk along the towing-path in hopes of
seeing him in the Californian dress which he affected
in warm weather. He was to be seen smoking a
cigar after breakfast or dinner, in long boots, leather
breeches, with a crimson silk cummerbund, an em-
broidered shirt, a richly braided jacket, and a
Panama hat.

If he met any of the girls, he would converse
with them without the ceremony of introduction :
notably in the case of Lawyer Battiscombe*s daugh-
ters, who, Mrs. Heathcote said, threw themselves

A Matter-of-fact Story. 57

at his feet. If he fell in with a man who pleased
him, he would take him into the villa, and there
compound him some strange drink which would
make the world for a brief space appear a very-
Paradise — until presently the magic of the dose de-
parted, and the drinker would be left with hot
coppers.

He never went to church, and refused to sub-
scribe to the chapel. To the rector he was polite
—offering him, when he called, a glass of a certain
curious restorative ; and when the worthy clergy-
man turned the conversation on things ecclesiastical,
Dick listened with the apparent reverence of a
catechumen.

"What I like in the Church," said Dick, "is the
complete equality that reigns in the building. All
alike, eh } No difference between rich and poor in
the matter of cushions and pews."

The rector felt that he was on delicate ground.

" And as to preaching, now. I suppose you find
the people getting a great deal better every year ?"

" Well — well — we do our best."

"They used to get drunk on Saturday nights.
Do they still r

The rector was obliged to own that they did.

" Now, rector, let us have a bargain. You shall

58 Ready-tnoftey Mortiboy.

preach on any given thing you like for a whole
year ; and if, after that time, you find the town
better, and the — the special sin removed, come
down on me for your schools, or anything you like."

The rector hesitated.

" The grocer puts sand in his sugar and mixes
his tea ; the publican puts * foots' in his beer ; the
doctor humbugs us with his pills ; the tobacconist
waters the bird's-eye ; the labourer drinks half his
wages ; the women are uncleanly and bad-tem-
pered. Come, rector, there's a splendid field for
you."

The rector was silent.

" I don't like unpractical things," continued
Dick. "There was a township in California, sir,
where they thought they ought to have a church.
So they built one, and subscribed their dollars, and
got a bran-new preacher in black togs from New
York. Down he came ; and the first Sunday they
thought, out of common politeness, they'd give
him a turn. He had a regular benefit : house full
— not even standing room. Next Sunday nobody
went : stalls, boxes, and pit all empty. So the
minister went to the principal bar to a§k the reason
why. The chief man there — judge he was after-
wards — took him up shatp enough.

A Matter-of-fact Story. 5g

*' * YouVe got a fine new church, haven't you ?'

*' * Yes/

" * And a hahnsome salary ?*

" ' Yes.'
* ** * And didn't we all come to give you a start ?'

" ' Yes.'

" ' Then what on airth do you want more ?'

" That's it, you see, rector. You get your innings
every Sunday, and the people go to hear you just
out of politeness and habit, and go away again.
And if there's anything on airth you want more,
you'd better try and work it another way."

CHAPTER THE FIFTH.

very top attic of x
very high house, in a
street near the Hay-
market. The sun shin-
ing brightly in at the
windows, and baking the
slates overhead. The
windows shut close,
nevertheless. A queer

room : the roof ill-sha-

pen, and the windows
odd. The only furniture a bench or table of rough
deal, running across the place just under the win-
dows. The floor stained of a thousand hues :
every inch of its surface is saturated with paints

It^^iciiTTitn niKufytCyq.

A Matter-of-fact Story, 6i

and varnishes upset over it. The walls plastered
with the scrapings of thousands of palettes, dried
on in parti-coloured patches, and decorated with
half a dozen soiled and smoke-begrimed cardboard
scrolls, on which are written, like so many texts —
" The eleventh commandment : Mind your own
business," " From witchcraft, priestcraft, and king-
craft, good Lord, deliver us," and such-like legends,
the work of a former prisoner there. On the floor
is a great stack of pictures, which have been taken
out of their frames in order to undergo the process
of cleaning; gallon cans of copal and mastic
varnish stand by them, in readiness for the varnish-
ing. At the bench stands a young man in his
shirt sleeves, rubbing away as hard as he can at
the resinous surface of an oil painting, rapidly
getting the old varnish off with his finger ends,
and working down to the artist's colours again.
He works with a v^^ill, singing at his work in the
finest tenor voice you ever heard outside the walls
of the Covent Garden Opera House.

It is Frank Melliship. How he came here I will
briefly explain.

"VjVhen ruin comes upon a young gentleman of
expensive tastes, who has received the very best,
and consequently the least useful, education that

62 Ready-money Mortiboy.

his country has to boast of, it generally finds him
in a helpless and very defenceless condition. This
was, as we have seen, Frank Melliship's lot. He
had no longer any money to spend, and he had not
been taught how to get any. Poverty would not
have frightened him much, because he was young,,
and did not know what it meant : what grinding
years of self-sacrifice and denial, what bitterness of
struggle, and what humiliations. But there were
his mother and sister. To knock about for a year
or two — ^no young man thinks he is going to be
poor after five-and-twenty or so — ^would have had
the charm of novelty. But for these two — ^the
delicately reared gentlewomen — the change from
the house at Market Basing to the miserable
lodgings in Fitzroy-street, off the Fulham-road,
was indeed a plunge. And though Kate did her
best bravely to meet the inevitable, their mother, a
weak and watery creature, never attempted to con-
ceal the misery of her new position, and to lament
the glories, which she naturally exaggerated, of the
past.

"What have we done," she would say at each
fresh reminder of the social fall — " what did we do
to merit all this r

Frank and Kate, with the sanguine enthusiasm

A Matter-of-fact Story. 6^

which belonged to their father s blood as well as to
their time of life, tried to cheer her with pictures of
the grand successes which were to come ; but in
vain. The good lady would only relapse into
another of her weeping fits, and be taken to her
room, crying, " Oh ! Francis — oh ! my poor hus-
band !" till the enthusiasm was damped, and the
present brought back to the brother and sister in
all its nakedness.

Every day they took counsel together. Frank's
bed-room, metamorphosed by Kate's clever hands
till it looked no more like a bed-room than Mr.
Swiveller's one apartment, served as their studio.
An inverted case — which once, in what lodging-
house keepers call their " happier days," had con-
tained Clicquot or gooseberry — served as a plat-
form, on which Frank stood for a model to his
sister. They called it their throne.

"Do — my dear, good boy — do hold out your
arm as I placed it," says Mistress Kate, sketching
in rapidly, while Frank stands as motionless as he
can before her in the best suit he has left. " I
have wasted I don't know how much time to-day
in getting up to put you right."

" My dear girl, can I stand — I put it to you — can
I stand like a semaphore for an hour at a time }

64 Ready-money Mortiboy.

Even a semaphore s arms go up and down, }'ou
know/*

" Yes, I know, Frank, it's dreadfully tiresome, as
I found when I sat for your Antigone. But see
how patient I was."

The advantage was certainly on Frank's side,
because Kate would stand in the same position for
half an hour at a time — twice as long as a profes-
sional model.

*' How far have you got, Kate T

" Don't move now — a moment more — only five
minutes, and I shall have finished the outline."-

She is sketching on a boxwood block. It was
the first order they had received : it was to illus-
trate a poem in a magazine, and the price was
three guineas.

" If you go on at this rate," said Frank, " it will
pay a great deal better than oils. Why, you can
do a block a-day — easily — ^working up your back-
grounds by candle-light."

" Yes — if we can get the orders ; but you must
not forget the trouble we had in getting the
first."

'* C'est le commencement," said Frank. " Et gai,
gai— " he began to sing.

" Do not move just now. Please don't."

A M after 'Ofrf act Story, 6^

u t

Bergeronnette,

Douce baisselette,

Donnez le moi votre chapelet,' "

sang her model, with one of his happy laughs.
" Don't you remember, Katie, when I sang that
jolly old French song last at Parkside, when Grace
played the accompaniment ? Dearest Grace !
When shall I see her again ?"

" Let us talk seriously," said Kate. " I am sure
mamma m?ist go away into the country somewhere.
We could live cheaper there than we can in London,
and I know she would get back her health at some
quiet seaside place ; and I could fill my sketch
book with pretty bits, and work them up into land-
scapes, like those you sold — "

" For fifteen shillings each," Frank laughed.

His experience of picture selling had been rather
disheartening.' But still he hoped ; nor was it un-
natural that he should do so. He had a strong
taste for art. He could do what few young men
can do — draw nicely. He had been famous for his
pen and ink sketches at Cambridge ; but Kate was
much more proficient with her pencil than he was.

Kate guided their course. She chose the
lodgings near the Museum. She was bursar for
the family, and did the marketing, often at night,

VOL. II. 5

66 Ready-money Mortiboy.

in the Fulham-road : for her mother would speedily
have outrun the constable by a distance.

As it was, John Heathcote's gift was reduced to
small dimensions.

Grace's hundred pounds Frank held sacred, pro-
posing to use it for his mother.

Kate took the necessary steps to their painting
at the public galleries. They went at first on
Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays to the Mu-
seum. Then Frank went on Thursdays and Fri-
days to the National Gallery, leaving Kate to go to
the South Kensington Museum by herself. They
wanted to learn Art, Now, Art is learned, they
had been told, by copying. So they set to work to
copy. Kate spent three days a-week for four
months at Dyckmans' "Blind Beggar." It is a
pretty picture, but copying it teaches nothing.
She found that out before it was half done ; but
she made a splendid copy of it on panel, like the
original. Frank copied Sir Joshua's '* Heads of
Angels," at the National. In this work there was
something to be learnt. The softness, the delicacy,
the angelic expression of those little cherubs'
heads, all painted from one tiny mortal face,
showed the student of art what it is in the hands
of a master. And Reynolds is a master for a very

A Matter-of-fact Story. 6y

uiiartistic nation to be proud of. Frank had
finished this picture when Kate's " Blind Beggar "
was half done. The copy he made was very good.
At the Gallery the old women praised it ; and as
they had often copied it themselves, they were
judges. A dealer who came in one students' day
called it " clever." He was a burly man, with a
tremendously red nose that told its own tale of
knock-outs. This professional opinion encouraged
Frank. He had hoped to sell it to some of those
connoisseurs of art who loiter round the students'
easels on closed days ; but there had been no bid.

He had it framed : it happened to be at the shop
of the red-nosed man, whose name was Burls. He
paid two pounds ten shillings for an appropriate
Reynolds frame for it.

Then he put his picture into a cab, and tried the
dealers all over the West-end with it.

"What ! buy a copy of a picture in the National
Gallery? Not unless we knew where we could
place it!"

It was a knock-down blow for our innocent young
artist; but it was the answer he got everywhere,
from rough dealers and smooth, Hebrew and Gen-
tile. So, at last, in despair, he left it at an auction
room in Bond-street, where, a fortnight afterwards,

5—2

68 Ready-money Mortiboy,

Kate and he attended, and bought it in at two pounds
seven and sixpence — half a crown less than the
frai^e that was on it had cost him ; and he had five
pet cent, commission to pay, and the cost of taking
it home. This opened his eyes to the trade value
of copies of pictures that are known.

A young lady at the Museum made friends with
Kate — they all make friends with one another —
and exhorted her to try at working on wood. So
with Frank and her mother for models, and a back-
ground out of her sketch book, she made a pretty
picture, and despatched Frank to lay siege to the
editors.

He took a few water-colour sketches of his own
with him, to show at one or two picture shops
where he had seen similar sketches displayed in the
windows.

He tried two shops — one was near Piccadilly —
in his walk towards the publishers* shops. He was
not afraid of talking to the shopkeepers, but he did
feel a little nervous at the prospect of bearding an
editor in his den.

So he showed his sketches, with some success.
The answer at both the shops was —

"Do me some with shorter petticoats, and I'll
give you forty-two shillings a dozen for them."

A Matter-of-fact Story. . 69

The shops were kept by brothers, and Frank's
sketches were pretty young ladies. He profited by
this experience.

He spent that afternoon, and the next, and the
next after that in calling at different places with
the inquiry, " Is the editor of the So-and-so in ?"

With one result. The editor never was in — to a
young man who did not know his name. At night,
after the third of these excursions, he felt embittered
towards these gentlemen, and told Kate he thought
they might as well put their block in the fire, it
would warm them so.

The weather was as warm as Frank's temper.
Kate reproved him, and gave him her royal com-
mands to try again.

"And now, Frank," she said after their mother
had gone to bed, " I have made up my mind to go
away from London, and take mamma with me — to
Wales, I think. Living is cheap there, and the
scenery is beautiful. She mtist be taken out of
London."

Frank felt rather glad at this. He thought his
mother and sister would be better in the country
for a few months. When they came back to him,
he meant to have a home for them.

"And 1*11 tell you why, Frank. I shall finish my

70 Ready-money Mortiboy.

picture ; but it is not easy to do that. There are
three people at it now — ^such a vulgar man ; and
oh ! two such vulgar women — and they race on a
Wednesday morning to get up the stairs before
me, and secure their seats for the week close to the
picture. The man elbows roughly by me, and I
can hardly get a look at the picture myself."

Frank began to fume — his fingers tingled.

" The authorities should make some proper rules,
I think, for I began my copy before any of them.
Of course, I can't race up the stairs with them, and
tear through the rooms to be first at the picture ;
and, then, Frank — you'll promise me to do as I tell
you?"

" I don't know, Kate. I think I shall be at the
top of the stairs before that fellow some day soon — "

" There, now, I have done if you do not give me
your word."

" Well— there, then— go on."

" Well, Frank, an old man — nobleman, they say
he is — has been very attentive."

Her brother gave an angry snort, and his eyes
looked very mischievous.

" Don't be angry — he is too ridiculous — the fun-
niest old object, with teeth, and a wig, and stays,
and a gold-headed cane. He wants to buy the

A Matter-of-fact Story. 71

'Blind Beggar/ and has given me advice I don't
want about painting it ; and to-day, Frank — **

" To-day, Kate ?*'

" He brought me a bouquet, which of course I
declined to accept. But I thought it best to put
away my picture, and leave the gallery."

" I shall be there to-morrow."

He was, and nearly every day after till Kate had
finished her picture.

But the Earl of only paid one more visit to

the Museum during his stay in town that season.

In the afternoon of the day on which Frank had
given his card to his sister's admirer, he determined
to try his luck again with the block and the port-
folio of sketches. At the first place he called at,
the man he saw took his name up to the editor of
the magazine, and, to his great surprise, he was
asked to walk upstairs.

He found himself in a dingy room, in the pre-
sence of a fatherly young man, with a grave but
kind face.

Frank told him how surprised he was at having
the opportunity of showing his specimens, and ask-
ing for work.

The editor of the " Universal Magazine " was a
scholar and a gentleman. He drew the young man

J2 Ready-money Mortiboy.

out, looked at his sketches, and gave him a few-
words of judicious praise.

" But I don't use any blocks. The ' Universal '
is not an illustrated magazine."

Frank was disappointed.

" I really had not thought of that,'* he stammered
out.

" But I am always ready to help anybody I can.
Wait a minute, Mr. Melliship. Your sister's draw-
ings are really clever, and the sort of thing that is
wanted. I will give you a note to a friend of mine
who uses a great many illustrations." He handed
Frank the letter, adding, " I shall be glad to hear
of your success some day when you are passing
this way. Stay, I will give you something else."

He wrote rapidly for five or six minutes, and
then handed Frank a list of all the illustrated
magazines of standing and respectability, with the
names of their editors.

" I have put a star to those where you may just
mention my name."

Frank thanked his new friend very sincerely, and
bowed himself out — ^to get an order for a block
fifteen minutes after.

The editor of the " Universal " blew down a pipe
at his desk. Whistle.

A Matter-of-fact Story, 73

" Sir ?"

"Look in the contributor's book, vol. xxvii.
Who wrote the article on ' Commercial Morality ?' "

After an interval of ten minutes, a whistle in the
editor's room.

" Well r

" Mr. Francis Melliship, banker, Market Basing.
Holmshire."

" Ah, I thought I knew the name. If I am not
mistaken, I shall be able to pay this young man
what his father refused to receive, the honorarium
for several articles he did for us."

He entered Frank's name in his note-book.

But Frank was not the sort of gentleman to be
helped. He would not ask anybody for assistance.
Dick Mortiboy would have helped him ; John
Heathcote would have helped him ; and in London,
a dozen men who had known his father would have
taken him by the hand. But Frank was too proud.
He would make his own way — to Grace. It was
always Grace, this goal he was hastening to. He
devoured her letter to Kate. He inspired Kate s
epistles in reply.

" Burn the boy's nonsense," honest John Heath-
cote had said a dozen times. " If we could only
get at him, we might do something for him.

74 Ready-motuy Mortiboy,

Painter! I would as soon see a boy of mine a
fiddler."

But Mrs. Heathcote was rather pleased than
not.

"What in the world can he do without any
money T she said. " If his father had brought him
up to something, he would have stood the same
chance as other people."

As the summer advanced, Mrs. Melliship's health
became worse, and it was decided that Kate and
she should go away into Wales. Kate had sold
her " Blind Beggar ** for twenty pounds, and with
this money they paid their few debts, and Frank
saw them off.

The world was before him. He took a lodging
in Islington, and went on with his painting. He
still meant to be famous. One fine morning he
had no money left except a five pound note he had
resolved never to break into. This brought him
down from the clouds. He had not been successful
in getting any work for the magazines, so he de-
termined, at whatever sacrifice, to turn his " Angels'
Heads " into money.

He took it first to Mr. BurFs shop, and told the

A Matter-of-fact Story. 75

picture dealer he had tried hard to sell it before,
but had been unable to dispose of it

" It isn't in our way, sir/'

" Is it in anybody's way ?" asked Frank.

" I should think not. Copies aren't no good at
all."

" Would you give me anything for it ?" asked the
young man.

"Well, you may leave it if you like. I've got a
customer I don't mind showing it to."

Frank called again a few days after.

" I'll give you six pounds for it, and then I dare
say I shall lose by it," said Mr. Burls.

He had sold it for eighteen guineas to a customer
who collected Sir Joshuas, and bought copies when
the originals were not likely to come into the
market. But Frank did not know this. He ac-
cepted the six pounds eagerly.

" Tni a ready-money man, my lad — there's your

• n

com.

"Thank you," said Frank, pocketing the six
sovereigns. "You have a great many pictures,
Mr. Burls."

And he might have added, "very great rubbish
they are."

"There's seventeen hundred pictures in this

76 Ready-money Mortiboy.

house, from cellar to garrets, lad,'* said the
dealer.

They stood in stacks, eight or ten thick, round
the cellar, down the open trap of which Frank
could see. They were piled everywhere. One
canvas, thirty feet by ten, was screwed up to the
ceiling. jThey were numberless pictures of every
age and school, Titians and Tenierses, Snyderses
and Watteaus : all the kings of England, from the
Conqueror down to William IV. ; ancestors ready
for hanging in the pseudo-baronial halls of the
nouveaux riches ; — in a word, furniture pictures by
the gross.'

" If there was seventeen hundred before, yours
makes the seventeenth hundred and oneth, don't

it r

The dealer was pleased to joke. His shopman
laughed, and Frank did too. He had put his pride
in his pocket, for Mr. Burls amused him.

" Now, this here Sir Joshua ought to be wet ;
and not to ask you to stand, suppose we torse."

Frank assented, lost, and paid for three glasses.

" Where's Critchett .? — I haven't seen him to-
day ?" Mr. Burls asked of his man.

" He has not turned up. The old complaint, I
expect."

A Matter-of-fact Story. 77

"Well, you can tell him from me, when he does
turn up, he's got to the end of his tether," said Mr.
Burls, very angrily. " Be dashed if I employ such
a vagabond any longer. There's this picture of Mr.
Thingamy's for him to restore, and I promised it
this week faithfully."

" He's often served you so before," said the man.

But this remark did not soothe the dealer. It
made him only the more angry.

Now, Mr. Frank Melliship had got to the end of
his tether, too, for he had only the six pounds he
had just received, and no immediate prospect of
being able to earn more.

Opportunity comes once in a way to every man.
It had come to Frank, and he determined to make
the most of it.

" Could I restore the picture for you ?"

It was a great ugly daub — ^a copy, a hundred
years old probably, of some picture in a Dutch
gallery — and stood on the floor by Frank. Doubt-
less it had a value in the eyes of its owner, who
thought it worthy of restoration : but a viler, blacker
tatterdemalion of a canvas you never saw.

At Frank's question, Mr. Burls opened his eyes
very wide.

" Show us your hands," he said. " That's what

78 Ready-money Mortiboy.

they say to beggars as say they're innocent at the
station. Ah! I thought so — ^you ain't done any
hard work. Now, perhaps you're what I call a
gingerbread gentleman. Are you ?"

The colour mounted to Frank's cheeks.

" I want employment. I am a poor man."

" He aint no use to us — is he, Jack ?"

Jack, Mr. Burls's man, shook his head.

" I could repaint that picture where it wants it,'"
said Frank.

"Did you ever restore a picture before.^ Re-
storing's an art : it's a thing as isn't learnt in a
moment, I can tell you. ' Pictures cleaned, lined,,
and restored by a method of our own invention,,
without injury, and at a moderate charge,' " said
Mr. Burls, quoting an inscription in gilt letters over
Frank's head. "Now, did you ever clean a picture ?"

" No," said Frank.

" Do you think you could do the painting part if
I taught you how to clean and restore on the
system I invented myself ?"

" I think I could," said Frank.

" But if I teach you the secrets of the trade, what
are you going to give me T

"I'm afraid I can't afford to give you any-
thing," said Frank, " except labour."

A Matter-of-fact Story. 79

"It's worth fifty pounds to anybody to know.
Critchett might have made a fortune at it. Look
at me. I began as an errand boy. I'm not ashamed
of it. A good restorer can always keep himself
employed."

"Indeed/' said Frank — ^who contemplated with
admiration a man who had been the founder of his
own fortune — " I should very much like to learn the
art of restoring, as I have not been successful in
getting a living as an artist."

" Well," said the dealer, " I'll see first what you're
up to, and whether you can paint well enough for me
if I was to teach you the restoring. You may come
upstairs. Bring that picturie up on your shoulder."

Frank hoisted the canvas aloft, and followed Mr.
Burls up the stairs.

CHAPTER THE SIXTH.

It was not very easy for
Frank to get the picture
round the turns of the
narrow iron staircase,
circular in form, whicli
led from Mr. Burls's sliop
to the room above, which
he called the gallery. In
this room, Frank saw
that there were a number of pictures hanging round
the walls, and on several tall screens. They were
of a better class than thbse in the shop. Mr. Burls
led the way through the gallery to a narro^v flight

A Matter-of-fact Story. 8 1

of stairs at the end. Mounting these, with the
canvas on his shoulder, Frank found more rooms
full of pictures, framed and unframed, in stacks that
reached up to his chin.

On the floor above, a number of men were em-
ployed in gilding and repairing frames. Up one
more flight of stairs, and they were on the attic
floor, apparently the sanctum of Mr. Critchett, the
restorer — for in a little back room were his easels
and palettes, and his battered tubes of paint, and
several short and very black clay pipes.

"I find the materials," said Mr. Burls. "IVe
paid for all the paints and brushes, so I suppose
they're mine."

"^Certainly," said Frank.

"Now you can set to work on that Cuyp as
youVe carried upstairs ; and then I shall see what
you're up to, and whether you'll suit me. If you
aint got all the paints you want, come to
me.

With this remark, Mr. Burls left Frank; and,
pulling off" his coat, set to work himself in the front
room, a short description of which I gave at the
beginning of my last chapter.

Left to himself, Frank looked about him. There
was a good light, to the north ; but when he stood

VOL. Tl. 6

82 Ready-money Mortiboy,

upright anywhere in the room, his head nearly
touched the ceiling.

The prospect from his window was limited almost
entirely to tiles and chimney pots.

Pasted to the walls were a number of prints of
the most celebrated characters of English history,
which — as Frank rightly guessed — ^were used in the
production of the genuine antique portraits which
were founded upon them. Mr. Critchett had left a
Queen Elizabeth, in a great starched ruff and
jewelled stomacher, in an unfinished state on his easeL

The furniture of his atelier was by no means
luxurious. It consisted of a cane-seated chair, with
three orthodox legs, and an old mahl stick for a
fourth. A high rush hassock, tied on this chair^
led Frank to suppose that his predecessor had been
a short man. There were, besides, three easels, a
fireplace with a black kettle on the hob, and several
canvases — some new, some old — in the corners;
and this was all.

Having made this short tour of inspection, Frank
settled down at once to his work.

He found it easy ; — little patches of paint gone
here and there all over the portrait ; and he sup-
plied these, carrying out, as well as he could in-
terpret it, the design of the original painter.

A Matter-of-fact Story. 83

Mr. Burls was constantly walking in and out of
the room, and looking over his shoulder, and volun-
teering unnecessary pieces of advice.

At four o'clock he left off "chafing" his pictures,
and looked in at Frank, smearing his coarse hands
with spirits, to get off the dirt with which they
were ditched.

"There," said he, "I've done for to-day. I've
chafed fifteen pictures : that's fifteen pound earned.
I shall chaise them a quid a-piece for doing 'em.
I don't work for nothing, and I don't know any-
body in the picture trade that does."

At six, he came up to Frank again, and looked
at his work.

" That'll do, my lad — that'll do," and went away
again.

This cheered Frank, and he worked as long as it
was light, and walked home to his lodgings at
Islington a happy man.

Next day he finished the job, and Mr. Burls
passed judgment on his work. It was favourable
to him ; and he was duly installed in the place of
Critchett, kicked out.

Frank wrote and told his sister and mother,
staying at Llan-y-Fyddloes, that he had got regular

6—2

84 Ready-money Mortiboy,

employment that suited him very well, and that
his prospects were brightening.

He did this to cheer them, and to some extent
he believed what he said.

" If," he wrote to Kate,- " I can only earn enough
to keep myself, and send something every week to
you, by the work I am at, and still leave myself
time for study and improvement, I am satisfied.
Depend upon it, you shall see me in the catalogue
at the Academy before long, No. ooooi, * Interior
of a studio,' by — " drawing a very fair likeness of
himself by way of signature to his letter.

He said nothing to Kate about the amount of
money he could earn at his new work, nor did he
tell her what it was exactly. His reason for the
first was that he wrote his letter before he had
settled terms with Mr. Burls ; for the second, be-
cause he knew his mother would become hysterical
at the bare idea of her son working for a living in
any but the most gentlemanlike manner, such as
society permits. Now, for his part, Frank saw no-
thing degrading in any honest labour, and was
quite content to put up for a while with such hum-
ble occupation.

" Hang it," he thought, " I'd rather do it than
sponge on somebody else."

^

A Matter-of-fact Story. 85

But Kate guessed it was something rather be-
neath his dignity to do, he was so reserved.

His arrangement with the picture dealer was in
these terms : —

Burls : " I*m fair and straight, I am. I should
not have got on if I'd done as many chaps do."

Frank : " To be sure. I think I am tolerably
straightforward, too, Mr. Burls. I hope so, at
least."

Burls : " I don't know nothing about you, do I ?'*

Frank (reddening) : " No."

Burls : " Well, I don't want to ask no questions,
my lad."

The man's familiarity was disgusting. It was a
fine lesson in self-command for Frank to make him-
self stomach it.

" You want work, and I'll give you some. You
can work for me instead of old Critchett. I'm fair
and straight with you. Some chaps would want
you to work six months for nothing."

Frank : " I could not do that."

Burls, continuing : " I don't ask you. You
shall have what Critchett had — that's a shillin' an
hour ; and handsome pay, too, I call it. I like to
pay my chaps well. Regular work, too. You
may work eight hours a-day if you like, and then

86 Ready-money Mortiboy,

you'll take eight and forty shiUin* a-week, you
know."

Mr. Burls appealed to his shopman to support
his statement that Frank's predecessor often " took
eight and forty a-week."

The terms seemed fair ; though the remunera-
tion for restoring, which required artistic skill,
seemed to Frank to bear no just proportion to the
money to be got by cleaning — for Mr. Burls earned
fifteen pounds before dinner at that, Frank recol-
lected.

However, he could hardly expect to get more
than Critchet had received before him ; so he
agreed to take a shilling an hour, and work regu-
larly for Mr. Burls.

Burls : " Done, then, and settled. We don't
want any character, do we, Jack } Pictures
aint easy things to carry out of the shop, are
they ?"

Frank (very angry) : " Sir !"

Burls : " No offence. Don't get angry. It was
only a hint that we should not trouble you for re-
ferences to your last employment. Reelect what
I said about those hands. YouVe been brought
up a gentleman, I dare say, but you're right not to
starve your belly to feed your pride. Don't be

A Matter-of-fact Story. 87

angry with me. I'm straight and fair, I am.
You'll find me that"

I have now explained how Frank came to be in
the top attic of Mr, Burl's house of business. He
remained in his situation about three months.
While there, he learned a great deal. Mr. Burls
took a fancy to him, and soon came to stand a little
in awe of him — for he was educated and honest,
and, in addition, plainly a gentleman. The dealer
was very ignorant, and, from any point of view but
that of his own class of traders, very dishonest —
that is, he looked upon the public, his customers,
as fair game; and would tell any lie, and any
sequence of lies, to sell a spurious picture for and
at the price of a genuine picture. The morals of
commerce, in the hands of the Burlses, find their
lowest ebb.

But, to some extent, their customers make them
what they are. If a man who has money to spend
on his house will have pictures for his walls, why
not prefer a new picture to an old one } Why not
an honest print before a dishonest canvas }

But it is always the reverse. He has a hundred
pounds to lay out, and he wants ten pictures for
the money — bargains — speculative pictures, with

S8 Ready-money Mortiboy,

famous names to them, which he can comment on
and enlarge upon, and point out the beauties of to
his friends, until he actually comes to believe the
daub he gave ten guineas for is a Turner ; and the
dealers can find him hundreds.

Why, the old masters must have painted pictures
faster than they could nowadays print them, if a
quarter of the things that are sold in their names
were their true works. There are probably more
pictures ascribed to any one famous old master
now for sale in the various capitals of Europe, than
he could have produced had he painted a complete
work every day, from the day he was born till the
day he died — and lived to be seventy, too.

Burls could find his customers anything they
asked for. No painter so rare, so sought after, or
so obscure, but there were some works of his, a
bargain, in the dealer's stock.

He told Frank his history : —

" My father wore a uniform : he was a park-
keeper in Kensington Gardens. I went to school
till I was thirteen, then I went out as an errand
boy. My master was a dealer, in St. James's
Street. I got to learn the gilding and cleaning ;
and when I was six-and-twenty, I earned two
pounds a-week. Well, my father had an old friend,.

A Matter-of-fact Story, 89

and he had had some money left him. He gave
his son two hundred pounds, and we went into busi-
ness. His son died before we'd been partners a
year. I bought his share, and here I am. I shall
die worth a hundred thousand pounds, Shipley " —
(this was Frank's name at Mr. Burls's) — " and this
business thrown in — mark my words."

This was his story, and it was true. Like all
men who have risen from nothing, Mr. Burls was
inordinately pleased with himself. He attributed
to his great ability what really ought to have been
put down to his great luck.

He would be a fine specimen for the "Self-Help*^
collection in Mr. Samuel Smiles^s book.

" Mind you," he often said to Frank, " there aint
a man in ten thousand that could have done what
IVe done."

Now, Burls's life, as I read it and as Frank read
it, was simply an example of the power of luck.
Serving under a kind master, who lets him learn
his trade. Luck. Finding a man who wants to
put his son into business, and is willing to trust
him. Luck. Getting all to himself. Luck. His
shop pulled down by the Board of Works, in order
to widen a street. Compensation paid just when
he wants money, at the end of his second year's

90 Ready-money Moriiboy.

trade. Luck. And so on. Look into every ad-
venture he has made, luck crowned it with success.
And how we all worship success that brings wealth !
Why, weak Mrs. Melliship would rather have seen
Frank succeed in making himself as. rich as Dick
Mortiboy, than that his name should have been
handed down to endless centuries as the writer of
a greater epic than Milton, or the painter of a
greater picture than the greatest of Raphael's car-
toons. Frank, on the other hand, never told all his
story to his employer, but he was constrained to
explain why he was in a position so different to
that he had been brought up in. And he did it in
a few words, and without any expression of com-
plaint. Burls only knew that his father had lost
money by rash speculation, and had died, leaving
Frank without resources. He did not inquire fur-
ther, but remarked —

" What aint in my business is in the three per cent.
Consols. Your father's ought to have been there."

Soon there came a very busy time at cleaning
pictures, and Burls asked Frank to help him.

He found^ it a mighty simple matter, though it
rubbed the skin off his fingers at first.

"Lay the canvas down," said Burls, "and rub it.
If the varnish comes off after a few rubs of your

A Matter-of-fact Story. 91

iinger, ifs mastic, and 'II all rub off clean down to
the paint. If it won't chafe, it's copal, and you
must get it off with spirits, and be Cc^reful not to
take the paint away with it. I've seen that done
often."

So Frank and Burls spent much of their time
together, chafing the dirty varnish off old pictures.
When they had rubbed it off, and got down to the
paint, one or the other dipped a wide brush in
mastic varnish, dabbed it on like whitewash on a
ceiling, and then laid the canvas flat on the floor of
the next room.

" It all dries down smooth enough," Burls said,
'' That's the beauty of it."

And this, gentle British public, is the art of
cleaning old oil paintings on a system invented by
ourselves, without the slightest injury or damage,
advertised by Bartholomew Burls and Co., Trafal-
gar-street, Haymarket. Country orders carefully
attended to. And you are charged for it entirely
according to Mr. Burls's belief in your capacity to
pay — sometimes ten shillings, sometimes ten
pounds ; but the process is always the same, and it
takes a very slightly skilled labourer any time from
fifteen minutes to sixty to complete the operation.

Sometimes the pictures wanted repainting in

92 Ready-money Mortiboy,

places : then Frank took them into his own room,
and did what was required, before they were
varnished off.

" Mind you, cleaning's an art, and I've taught it
you," Mr. Burls would say.

For painting and painters he had a proper con-
tempt. He bought their works so cheap, and they
— at least, the specimens he saw — were always such
poor devils. But gilding frames, cleaning and re-
storing pictures — these were profitable arts, and he
respected them.

He told Frank many queer anecdotes of the
trade, of his customers, and how he had imposed
upon their credulity. And how credulous customers
are, only such men as Mr. Burls know.

He told him tales of the sales and knock-outs ;
and one day took him to one at a public-house in
Pall-mall, where Frank formed an acquaintance
with the habits, customs, and language of the trade,
and saw all the lots they had bought at Christie's
put up again, and resold among themselves at a
good profit.

" Look at that," said Mr. Burls one day to Frank
— " that's a seller, ain't it } I lay you a new hat I
don't have that here a fortnight, and I shall ask
sixty guineas for it."

A Matter-of-fact Story, 93

" Is it not the one that has been in the shop some
time ?" Frank asked.

" No, it ain*t ; but it's the own brother to it, and
here's two more of the family — only they ain't done
up yet," said the dealer, pulling down two other
canvases from a rack.

Frank opened his eyes — wide.

The pictures were landscapes, in the style of
"Claude. The first was cracked all over, respectably
dirty, and looked certainly a hundred years old.
The paint of the other two was scarcely dry.

"It would have deceived me, I believe,'* said
Frank.

"Deceive anybody," said Mr. Burls. "Now,
you wouldn't look at that picture and think it's only
a month old, would you ? That's all it is. It was
like these here two a month ago. I'vq sold four or
iive of 'em."

"It would not do to sell them to intimate
friends, would it.^" said Frank.

"Trust me for that. I send 'em about the
country. I've bought everything lately at an old
maiden lady's at Bexley Heath, and described the
place to the customers; but I think IVe used it
up about. Give us a good name, now, of a place
for stuff to come from."

94 Ready-money Mortiboy,

Frank thought a moment, and suggested Comp-
ton Green.

"Where's Compton Green?" asked Mr. Burls.

"It's five miles from Market Basing, in Holm-
shire," said Frank.

"Well, I'll try Compton Green. I've got a cus-
tomer coming to look at some pictures to-day. I
hope it'll be as lucky as Bexley Heath has been.
Jack and me's sold some hundreds now, I think^
from there ; so it's time we had a change."

"Do," said Frank. "It has one advantage, at ^
all events, nobody will know it."

"Now I'm going to show my customer this
Claude. I wish I'd got a dozen as good. It cost
me fifteen pounds ; and it wasn't painted half a
mile from where we stand. I want some imitations.
Couldn't you paint me some ?"

Frank tried ; and, after some time, succeeded, to
Mr. Burls's entire satisfaction, in imitating Old
Crome.

"That's right enough," said the dealer. "I'll
give you ten pound a-piece for a dozen as good as
that."

Frank was delighted. Here was fortune come
at last.

" I'm fair and straight, I am," said the dealer.

A Matter-of-fact Story. 95

** There ain't much in painting *em when youVe
been showed what's wanted. It's the doing 'em
up. That's a secret as only a few of us have got.
It cost me something to learn it, I can tell you. I
paid for it, and it's paid me. This picture, when
I've done with it, '11 be worth sixty, if it's worth a
sovereign. But there's art, I can tell you, in doing
what I do to 'em."

There always was, according to Mr. Burls's ver-
sion of the case, art in doing anything to a picture
but painting it.

Frank watched the processes his picture went
through with interest.

It went to be lined, and stretched on an old
strainer. As it was to be an old picture, the sup-
posed old canvas it was painted on must be con-
cealed by a lining.

Then it received several coats of mastic varnish,
in which red and yellow lake and other colours
were mixed to tone it down, laid on with Burls's
liberal hand. As the first coat dried, a second, and
so on.

Then it was brushed over one night with a sub-
stance which we have all eaten times without
number. In the morning, Frank's Old Crome
was cracked all over.

^6 Ready-money Mortiboy,

He was astonished, and well he might be. The
surface, hard and dry, was a network of very thin
cracks. It was put into a real old frame of the
period, the door mat shaken over canvas and frame
several days in succession, and the business was
complete.

The picture looked old and mellow ; the cracks
bore witness to its genuineness ; it had been lined
to keep the rotting canvas from dropping to pieces
as it stood ; but the frame was the one it had
always hung in, in the old manor house at Compton
Green.

" It's a simple thing when you know how to do
it, ain't it ?" asked Mr. Burls of Frank.

" It is, indeed," said the artist, astonished at his
own work in its altered guise. " It is simple,"

But what that simple thing is I must not tell, or
I shall have some of my younger readers trying
the experiment of cracking their fathers' pictures ;
and it wants some practice to ensure success in
making the cracks natural in appearance, and not
having too many of them.

Frank set to work to make more of these imita-
tions.

He made them to order, not being a party to
any deception which his employer might practise.

A Matter-of-fact Story. 97

A copy, or an imitation, whichever Mr. Burls
wanted. What the dealer chose to do with it when
the order was executed, was nothing to Frank. At
the same time he had a shrewd suspicion, though
Burls said nothing, that his pictures were sold as
originals. It must be stated that Burls did not
always sell a copy as an original. The imitations
brought Frank ten pounds each ; but they lost him
his employment. In this way.

One day, as he was going out to his tea, when
he got as far as the iron staircase that connected
the gallery with the shop, he observed Burls
showing some pictures to two customers : one of
these was his Old Crome.

" Compton Green, I assure you, they all came
from," Burls was saying.

" Near Market Basing Y' asked a clerical old
gentleman, who was one of his two customers.

" That's the place, sir. I fetched *em all away
myself, I assure you."

" But there is nobody there who ever had any
pictures. I live near the village myself."

Here was a facer for the dealer.

He saw Frank, and called him. Frank had
given him the name. Frank must get him out of
the scrape.

VOL. II. 7

I

98 Ready-money Mortiboy,

" Here, Shipley'* — he winked hard — " you went
down with me to fetch these pictures. Tell this
gentleman the house we got *em from. It's a
genuine Crome as ever I sold, sir" — Frank was
coming up the shop, and the old gentleman's back
was turned towards him — " and it's a cheap picture
at sixty guineas. I would not take pounds for it."

By this time Frank was close to him.

"Tell this gentleman where we got these pic-
tures from, every one of them. You went with
me.

Burls made a great mistake in his man. Frank
was not going to tell lies for him. Besides, he
knew the customer.

The old gentleman turned round, and saw him
before he could escape. He fell back a step or
two, shaded his eyes with his hand, looked very
hard at Frank, then exclaimed, cordially holding
out his hand —

" God bless me ! Young Mr. Melliship !"

"Dr. Perkins !" stammered Frank.

" My dear young gentleman, who ever would
have thought of seeing you here ?"

Frank was interrupted in a rambling apology by
Mr. Burls.

"Very clever young man — invaluable to me.

A Matter-of-fact Story. 99

Hell tell you" — here he winked again at Frank —
" all about the place we fetched them from."

"Well, I shall have some other things to talk
about with him of more importance ; but perhaps
he will excuse me if, to settle this, I ask where
possibly at Compton Green there could be pictures
without me knowing it ?"

"Ah !" said Burls, "he can tell you. I go into
so many houses, I forget where they are almost."

"Nowhere," said Frank, looking Dr. Perkins —
whom he knew as an old friend of his father's —
full in the face. " I painted it myself."

And he was gone out of the shop. It was in
vain the old clergyman and his son-in-law tried to
overtake him. They soon lost sight of him in the
crowded street.

7—2

CHAPTER THE SEVENTH.

MUST tell you," wrote Grace to Kate,
" of the great day we had at Dem-
gate. You know all the dreadful
news, because Lucy has told you how
Uncle Mortiboy, after he had given all his money
to Dick, had a paralytic stroke, and is quite help-
less now. He seems to know people, though he
cannot speak. He gives a sort of a grunt for
*yes,' and frowns when he means *no.' Though
we feel sure he will never recover his faculties
again, poor old man, he is not at all a pitiable
object to look at. He has completely lost the use
of one side, and partially that of the other. His
face is drawn curiously out of shape, and it gives
him a happy and pleasant look he never used to

A Matter-of-fact Story. lOi

have. He actually looks as if he were smiling all
the while — a thing, as you know, he did not often
do. They have taken him downstairs, and old
Hester looks after him. Dick has moved into that
little villa which stands across the river, the only
house there. He has a boat to go across in. It
seems a prosaic way of getting over a river for a
man who knows all about California and Texas,
doesn't it ? I told him that we all expected him
to strike out a new idea.

"But the moving was the great thing. He asked
us all there to come down while he ransacked the
old house. So down we went. We went in to see
poor old Mr. Mortiboy, and he seemed to know us,
and to want to speak ; but it was no use. Then
our voyage of discovery began. We had Mr.
Tweedy, the builder, who went about with the
house-steps and a hammer. He went first. Dick
came next. We followed, pretending not to be at
all curious ; and old Hester brought up the rear.

"First, Aunt Susan's room. Then we opened
all her drawers, boxes, and cupboards. There was
nothing in one of them except old letters and
things of no interest or value. 'The old man,'
Dick said, *has been here before us.' I don't
think that it's nice of him to speak of his father

102 Ready-money Mortiboy.

in that way; though mamma declares that his
voice always shakes as he does it. All poor aunt's
dresses were hanging up just as she had left them.
Dick gave every one to mamma, with her lace —
you know what beautiful lace Aunt Susan had.
There is not much, after all ; for she never dressed
very well, as you know. Mamma transferred the
gowns to old Hester on the spot, and kept the lace,
of course.

" Then we went downstairs to the first floor —
Mr. Mortiboy's own floor. Here we had a surprise.
In the room was a long press, which Dick opened.
My dear Kate, it was full of gold and silver cups,
and plate of all kinds.

" Dick tossed them all ' on the table with his
usual careless manner.

" * Now, cousins,* he said, ' if you can find any-
thing here with the Heathcote crest on it, take it.'

" I found an old cup, which must have been my
great-grandfather's, which I took home to papa.

" * I am going to pick out the Mortiboy plate,'
said Dick, * and sell all the rest.'

" Oh, Kate ! among the rest was a great deal of
yours, which Uncle Mortiboy had bought up from
the sale. I waited till mamma was not looking,
and I begged him net to sell that. He did not

I

•

A Matter-of-fact Story. 103

Icnow that it was yours, and promised. So that is
all safe for the present. And then he produced
Aunt Susan's jewels and trinkets, and divided
them between Lucy and me. I shall have such
splendours to show you when we meet again. It is
old-fashioned, of course, but very good.

" Then he put all the things back again.

"* We're going to look for money,' he said.
^ Hester says he used to hide it away.'

" Then we saw the use of the steps and the
hammer. Mr. Tweedy went about hammering
everywhere, to see if things were solid or hollow.
In a window-seat which he forced open — it had
been screwed down — we found a bag full of
guineas. I have one of them now. Behind a
panel of the wainscoting, which had a secret spring
— I did not know there were any houses in Market
Basing with secret springs and panels — we found
not a skeleton, my dear, with a dagger stuck in its
ribs, as there ought to have been in a secret cup-
board, but another bag, with thirty old spade
guineas in it. Wherever a hiding place could be
made. Uncle Mortiboy had hidden away some
money. There was quite a handsome sum in an
old and well-darned stocking foot, and ever so
many guineas under his bed. He seems to have

104 Ready-money Mortiboy.

had a great penchant for saving guineas. Hester
says he thought they brought luck.

" How much is left to find, of course we cannot
tell. It seems now that he was never quite easy in
his mind about the things in his house. You know
their queer, narrow old staircase ? Well, he used
always to take his after-dinner nap on the stairs^
where nothing could pass him without awaking
him ; and he used to pay the policeman extra
money for giving a special look at the house*
How it was he was not robbed, I can't think.
• "After all this, we went home, loaded with
spoil. Mamma began again about Dick's 'in-
tentions;' but that only annoys me a very little
now.

"Dick has got old Mrs. Lumley, whom you
know, to look after him. But he won't let her sleep
in the house. He fired pistols at his first woman^
and she ran away. But Mrs, Lumley is not afraid,
and I haven't heard of any pistols being fired at
her.

" When are you going to give me fresh news of
Frank.? Kate, dear, give him my love — my real
and only love — and tell him not to forget me, and
to keep up his courage. If he would only be helped,
all would be well. I am sure papa liked him better

A Matter-of-fact Story. 105

than anybody that came to Parkside. And, after
all, papa — is papa."

It was a fine time this, for Polly. She had
plenty of Dick's society. He was at home nearly
every evening, and generally alone. Then she
would sit with him while he drank, smoked, told
her queer stories, and sang her jovial sea-songs.
As for her, she always behaved as a lady, put on a
silk dress every evening, and invariably had her
bottle of port before her, carrying her adherence to
the usages of polite society so far as very often ta
finish it.

Occasional wayfarers along the towing-path
would hear sounds of merriment and singing. It
was whispered that Dick Mortiboy even enter-
tained the Evil One himself, and regaled him with
cigars and brandy.

Sometimes they played at cards, games that
Dick taught her. Sometimes they used to quarrel^
but not often ; because once, when she threatened
her husband, he took her by the shoulders, and
turned her out of doors.

Her venerable parent was a bedridden old lady^
of prepossessing ugliness, who resided in a cottage.

io6 Ready-money Mortiboy,

neither picturesque nor clean, in the outskirts of
Market Basing. By the assistance of her daughter,
she was able to rub along and get her small com-
forts. She was not a nice old lady to look at, nor
was she eminently moral ; being one of those who
hold that lies cost nothing, and very often bring in
a good deal.

"Get money out of him, Polly," she said.
"Get as much as you can — it won't last, you
know."

" And why shouldn't it last } What's to prevent
it lasting, you old croaker.^"

"The other will turn up some day, Polly. I
know it — I'm certain of it. Make him give you
money. Tell him it's for Bill."

" Mother, Dick's no fool. I've had fifty pounds
out of him for little Bill in the last four months. I
told him, only a fortnight ago, that Bill had got the
scarlet fever! and he told me to go to the devil.
He's deep, too. He doesn't say anything, but he's
down on you all of a sudden. Mother, I lie awake
at night, and tremble sometimes. I'm afraid of
him, he is so masterful."

"But try, Polly, my dear — try. Tell him I
want things at my time of life."

"I might do that. But it's no use pretending

A Matter-of-fact Story. 107

anything about Bill for awhile. The other night
he said Bill was played out. He wants to know
where the boy is, too.'*

''Where is he, Polly.? Tell your old mother,
deary."

" Sha'n%" said Polly.

She made a long story about her mother that
very night, and coaxed ten pounds out of Dick for
her. The old woman clutched the gold, and put it
away under her pillow, where she kept all the
money that Polly got out of Dick.

It was odd that he could endure the woman at
all. She was rough-handed, rough-tongued, coarse
minded, intriguing, and crafty — and he knew it.
Her tastes were of the lowest kinds. She liked to
eat and drink, and do little work. They had no
topics in common. But he was lazy, and liked to
"let things slide." She had all the faults that a
woman can have ; but she had a sort of cleverness
which was not displeasing to him. Sometimes he
would hate her. This was generally after he had
been spending an evening at Parkside — almost the
only house he visited.

Here, under the influence of the two girls and
their father, he became subdued and sobered. The
subtle influence of the pure and sweet domestic

io8 Ready-money Mortiboy,

life was strong enough to touch him : to move him,
but not to bring him back.

The sins of youth are never forgiven or forgotten.
Now, when all else went well with Dick, when
things had turned out beyond his wildest hopes,
this woman — whom he had married in a fit of calf
love — stood in his way, and seemed to drag him
down again when he would fain have risen above
his own level. Other things had passed away and
been forgotten. There was no fear that the old
Palmiste business would be revived. Facts and
reports, ugly enough, were safe across the Atlantic.
Of the twelve years of Bohemian existence no one
knew : they were lost to history as completely as
the forty years' wandering of the Israelites. Only
Lafleur, who was sure to keep silent for his own
sake, knew. And this woman alone stood in the
way, warning him back from the paths of respecta-
bility — an Apollyon whom it was impossible to
pass.

But one evening, Polly, who had come in to see
him, cried in a maudlin way over the love she had
for the boy ; and pulling her handkerchief out of
her pocket to dry her eyes, dragged with it a letter,
which Dick, who was sitting opposite her and not
too far off, instantly covered with his foot. Igno-

A Matter-of-fact Story. 109

rant of her loss, she went on crying till the fit
passed ; and then, finishing off the port, marched
away in rather a corkscrew fashion. Dick, lifting
his foot, picked up the letter and read it.

It was a very odd epistle, and was dated from
some suburb of London of which he knew nothing,
called " Paragon-place, Gray's Inn-road."

The orthography was that of a person imper-
fectly educated, and Dick deciphered it with some
difficulty.

" MY Deer poly" — it went — " escuse Me trub-
bling you butt im hard up, haveing six of themm
Cussed babies to look after and methoosalem and
Little bill do eat ther Heds of and what with
methoosalem as wont wurk and bill as Wont Prig
im most crasy with them you Owe me for six
munths which six Pound ten and hope as youll
send me the munney sharp as Else bill he cuts his
Lucky so as hes your own Son and not mine
i dont see wy should kepe him any longer for
Nuthink and remain dear poly your affeckshunit

" Ann Maria Kneebone.

" P.s. — [This in another hand] — i see the old
woman a ritin her letter wich it toke her hall day

no Ready-money Mortiboy,

and the babies a starvin, so i had a P.s. to say as
she is verry hard up and so am i and so his bill.

" Methoosalem/'

Dick read this precious epistle with a look of
extreme bewilderment. Then he read it over
again. Gradually arriving at a sense of its mean-
ing, he looked again at the address and the name,
so as not to forget them — he never forgot anything
— and then he twisted it up and burned it in the
candle. After that he went to bed, putting off
meditation till the following morning. Dick was
not going to spoil his night's rest because Polly had
told him lies.

Little Bill — that was Polly's child ; presumably^
therefore, his as well. Therefore, little William
Mortiboy — the' heir-apparent to his father's for-
tunes.

"William Mortiboy's position," said Dick to
himself, next morning after breakfast, "appears
unsatisfactory. He lives with a lady named Knee-
bone, who has a lodging-house for babies. Wonder
if the babies like the lodgings } William Mortiboy
associates, apparently, with a gentleman called

■

Methoosalem, who refuses to work. Is he one of
the babies ? Wonder if he is ! William Mortiboy

A Matter-of-fact Story, 1 1 1

is expected to prig. That's a devilish bad begin-
ning for William. William Mortiboy's companions
are not, apparently, the heirs to anything — not
even what the man in the play calls a stainless

name. Polly, I'm afraid you're a bad lot !

Anyhow, you might have paid the five bob a-week
out of all the money youVe had in the last four
months. But we'll be even with you. Only wait a
bit, my lady."

CHAPTER THE EIGHTH.

T was a godly and an ancient
custom in Market Basing,
that, on a certain Sunday
afternoon in the year, the chil-
dren should have a " church
parade" all to themselves,
followed by a bun. Of late
years, an addition had been
made to this festival by set-
ting apart a week-day in the
summer for a school feast
and treat. It was generally
a dreary affair enough. The
boys and girls were mar-
shalled, and marched to some
field not far off, where they were turned loose pre-

A Matter-of-fact Story, 113

vious to the tea, and told to play. As the Market
Basing boys saw no novelty in a field — unlike the
Londoner, to whom a bird's nest is a new discovery,
and a field-mouse the most remarkable of wild
animals — these feasts, although preceded by cake
and followed by tea, had no great charms. Perhaps
they were overweighted by hymns.

Now, Dick, pursuing that career of social useful-
ness already hinted at, had succeeded, in a very
few weeks, in alienating the affections of all the
spiritual leaders of the town. The way was this.
First, he refused to belong to the chapel any more,
and declined to pay for a pew in the church, on the
reasonable ground that he did not intend to go to
either. They came to him — Market Basing was
regularly whipped and driven to religion, if not to
godliness — to give money to their pet society,
which, they said, called alike for the support of
church and chapelj for providing Humble Break-
fasts and flannel in winter for the Deserving Poor.
This was explained to mean, not the industrious
poor, nor the provident poor, nor the sober poor,
but the poor who attended some place of worship.
Dick said that not going to church did not of itself
prove a man to be irreligious, artfully instancing
himself as a case in point ; and refused to help.

VOL. II. 8

114 Ready-money Mortiboy.

Then the secretaries of London societies, finding^
out that there was another man who had money to
give, and was shown already to be of liberal dis-
position, sent him begging letters through the
curates. They all got much the same answer.
The missionary societies were dismissed because, as
Dick told them, he had seen missionaries with his
own eyes. That noble institution in Lincoln's Inn
Fields, which exists for the double purpose of
maintaining a large staff and converting the Jews,
was refused on the ground of no results commen-
surable with the expense. He offered, indeed, a
large sum for a successful mission among the pro-
fessions — especially the bar — in England. And he
rashly proposed a very handsome prize — no less
than a thousand pounds — to anybody who would
succeed in converting him. Rev. Potiphar Demas,
a needy vessel, volunteered ; but Dick declined to
hear him, because he didn't want to know what
Mr. Demas had to say. Now, this seemed dis-
courteous, to the reverend gentleman.

All this might have been counterbalanced by
his many virtues. For it was notorious that he
had given a pension to old Sanderson, the ruined
cashier of Melliship*s bank ; also that he had with-
drawn the Mortiboy claims on the Melliship estate :

A Matter-of-fact Story. 115

this was almost as if the Americans were to with-
draw their Alabama claims, because there was no
knowing where they might end. Besides which, it
made an immediate difference of four shillings in
the pound. Further, sundry aged persons who had
spent a long life in cursing the name of Mortiboy,
took to praising it altogether, because Dick was
helping them all. And the liberality towards his
clerks with which he inaugurated his reign was
almost enough of itself to make him popular.

But then came that really dreadful business about
the old women. This, although he was gaining a
golden name by making restitution for his father's
ill deeds — like Solomon repairing the breaches
which his father David had made — was enough to
make all religious and right-minded people tremble
in their shoes. Everybody knows that humility in
the aged poor is the main virtue which they are
expected to display. In the church at Market
Basing was a broad middle aisle, down which
was ranged a row of wooden benches, backless,
cushionless, hard and unpromising. On them sat,
Sunday after Sunday, at these services, constant,
never-flagging, all the old women in the parish. It
was a gruesome assemblage : toothless, rheumatic,
afflicted with divers pains and infirmities, they yet

8—2

Ii6 Ready-money Mortiboy.

struggled, Sunday after Sunday, to the "free
seats," so called by a bitter mockery, because those
who sat in them had no other choice but to go.

On their regular attendance depended not sa
much their daily bread, which the workhouse might
have given them, but their daily comforts; their
tea and sugar ; their wine if they were ill — ^and they
always were ill ; their blankets and their coals.
Now, will it be believed that Dick, instigated by
Ghrimes, who held the revolutionary maxim that
religion, if it is to be real, ought not to be made a
condition of charity, actually found out the names
of these old trots, and made a weekly dole among
them, without any conditions whatever? It was
so. He really did it. After two or three Sundays
the free seats were empty, all the old women
having gone to different conventicles, where they
got their religion, hot and hot, as they liked it;
where they sat in comfortable pews, like the rest of
the folk ; and where they were treated as if, in the
house of God, all men are alike and equal. When
the curates called, they were cheeky ; when they
threatened, the misguided old ladies laughed ; when
they blustered, these backsliders, relying on their
Dick, cracked their aged fingers in the young
men's faces.

A Matter-of-fact Story. 117

"He is a very dreadful man," said the rector.
^* What shall we do with him ?"

He called. He explained the danger which
befel these ignorant thougrh elderly persons in fre-
•quenting an uncovenanted place of worship ; but
he spoke to deaf ears. Dick understood him not.

It was the time of the annual school feast. Dick
was sitting in that exasperating Californian jacket
in the little bank parlour, consecrated to black
cloth and respectability. His legs were on the
window sill, his mouth had a cigar in it, his face
ivas beaming with jollity, his heart was as light as
a child's. All this was very bad.

Foiled in his first attempt, the rector made a
second.

"There is another matter, Mr. Mortiboy, on
which I would speak with you."

"Speak, Mr. Lightwood," said Dick. "Don't
ask me for any money for the missionaries."

"I will not," said good old Mr. Lightwood,
mournfully. " I fear it would be of little use."

Dick pulled his beard and grinned. Why this
iiniversal tendency of mankind to laugh when, from
a position of strength, they are about to do some-
thing disagreeable }

" It is not about any of our societies, Mr. Morti-

Ii8 Ready-money Mortiboy.

boy. But I would fain hope that you will not
refuse a trifle to our children's school feast. We
give them games, races, and so forth. With tea
and cake. We are very short of funds."

" Do you ?" cried Dick. " Look here, sir. What
would you say if I offered to stand the whole thing
— pay for the burst myself — grub, liquids, and
pnzes.'*

The rector was dumbfoundered. It had hitherto
been one of his annual difficulties to raise the money
for his little fHe, for St. Giles's parish was very
large, and the parishioners generally poor. And
here was a man offering to pay for everything !

Then Dick, who could never be a wholly sub-
missive son of the Church, must needs put in a
condition which spoiled it.

" All the children, mind. None of your Church
children only."

" It has always been confined to our own children^
Mr. Mortiboy. The Dissenters have their — ahem t
their — their — treat at another time."

"Very well, then. Here is my offer. I will pay
for the supper, or dinner, or whatever you call it,,
to as many Market Basing children as like to come.
I don't care whether they are Jews or Christians,
That is their look-out, not mine. Take my offer,.

A Matter-of-fact Story. 1 19

Mr. Lightwood. If you refuse, by Jove, I'll have
a day of my own, and choose your day. We'll see
who gets most youngsters. If you accept, you shall
say grace, and do all the pious part yourselfl
Come, let us oblige each other. I am really sorry
to refuse you so often ; and here is a chance."

What was to be done with this dreadful man ?
If you crossed him, he was capable of ruining
everything ; and to yield to him was to give up
half your dignity. But concession meant happiness
to the children ; and the good old clergyman, who
could not possibly understand the attitude of mind
of his new parishioner — seeing only perversity,
where half was experience and half ignorance —
yielded at once and gracefully.

Dick immediately assumed the whole conduct of
the affair. Without making any reference to
church or chapel, he issued handbills stating that
sports, to which all the children in the place were
invited, would be held on the following Wednesday,
in his own paddock at Derngate. Then followed
a goodly list of prizes to be run for, jumped for,
wrestled for, and in other ways offered to public
competition. And it became known that prepara-
tions were making on the most liberal scale. There
was to be a dinner at one, a tea at five, and a

120 Ready-money Mortiboy.

supper at eight. There were to be fireworks.
Above all, the races and the prizes.

Dick had no notion of doing a thing by halves.
He got an itinerant circus from a neighbouring
fair, a wild beast show, a Punch and Judy, swing-
boats, a roundabout, and a performing monkey.
Then he hired a magic lantern, and erected a tent
where it was to be seen all day. He hired
donkeys for races, got hundreds of coloured lamps
from town, built an enormous marquee where any
number of children might sit down to dinner, and
sent out messengers to ascertain how many guests
might be expected.

This was the happiest period in Dick's life. The
possessor of a princely income, the owner of an
enormous fortune, he had but to lift his hand, and
misery seemed to vanish. Justice, the propagation
of prudential motives, religion, natural retribution
for broken laws, all these are advanced ideas, of
which Dick had but small conception.

Grace Heathcote described the day in one of her
letters to Kate — those letters which were almost
the only pleasure the poor girl had at this time : —

" As for the day, my dear, it was wonderful. I
felt inclined to defend the climate of England at

A Matter-of-fact Story. I2I

the point of the sword — I mean the needle. Dick,
of course, threw California in my teeth. As we
drove down the road in the waggonette, the grand
old trees in the park were rustling in their lovely-
July foliage like a great lady in her court dress.
The simile was suggested to me by mamma, who
wore her green silk. Lucy and I were dressed
alike— in white muslin. I had pink ribbons, and
she wore blue ; and round my neck was the locket
with F.'s portrait in it, which you sent me — you
good, kind, thoughtful Kate! Mamma does not
like to see it ; but you know my rebellious disposi-
tion. And papa took it in his fingers, and then
pinched my cheek, as much as to say that he highly
approved of my conduct. Oh ! I know the dear
old man's heart. I talk to him out in the fields,
and find out all his little secrets. Men, my dear
Kate, even if they are your own father, are all as
simple as — what shall I say t — as Frank and papa.
"We got into Market Basing at twelve. The
town was just exactly like market day, only with-
out the smell of vegetables. It felt like Christmas
Day in the summer. You know the paddock } It
is not very big, but it was big enough. The front
lawn of Derngate — poor old Uncle Mortiboy in-
side, not knowing what was going on ! — was

122 Ready-money Mortiboy.

covered with a great marquee. The paddock had
a racecourse marked round it, and a platform, and
posts between, which were festooned with coloured
lamps. All the children, in their Sunday best,
were gathering about the place, waiting to be ad-
mitted.

" As we drove up, Dick came out, with a cigar
between his teeth, of course, and the crowd gave a
great cheer. Mamma said it seemed as if it was
meant for us ; and so we all got out of the wag-
gonette, trying to look like princesses ; and Dick
helped us, and they all cheered again. Really, I
felt almost like Royalty ; which, my dear Kate,
must be a state of life demanding a great strain
upon the nerves, and a constant worry to know
whether your bonnet is sitting properly.

"'Are we looking our best, Dick?' I asked,
anxious to know.

" * Your very best,* he said. * I take it as a com-
pliment to my boys and girls.'

" I wish that woman Mary, our old servant, had
not been standing close by. She gave me a look
— such a look as I never had before — as if I was
doing her some mortal injury; and then turned
away, and I saw her no more all day. I declare
there's always something. If ever I felt happy in

A Matter-of-fact Story. 12 j

my life — except one day when Frank told me he
loved me — it was last Wednesday ; and that woman
really spoiled at least an hour of the day for me^
because she made me feel so uncomfortable. I
wish she would go away.

" As one o'clock struck, the band — did I tell you
there was a band t A real band, Kate, the militia
band from the Stores — struck up ' The Roast Beef
of Old England,' and Dick in five minutes had all
the boys and girls in to dinner.

" The rector, and his curates, and the Dissenting
ministers — and what the paper called 'a select
company,' which means ourselves chiefly — were
present. We all sat down : I next to Dick on his
left hand, mamma on his right. The rector said
grace. Dick whispered that we could not have too
much Grace — his Californian way of expressing
satisfaction at my personal appearance — and we
began to eat and drink. Spare me the details.

" One p.m. to two p.m. : legs of mutton, and
rounds of beef, and huge plum puddings.

"Two p.m. to three p.m.: the cherubs are all
gorged, and lying about in lazy contentment, too
happy to tease each other, and too lazy to do any
mischief. Old Hester crying.

" ' What for, Hester ?'

124 Ready-money Mortiboy,

" ' Oh ! miss, to think that Miss Susan never
lived to see him come home again. And she so
fond of him. And he so good and so kind.*

" Poor old Hester ! She follows her boy, as she
calls him, about with her eyes. I have even seen
her stroke the tails of his coat when he wasn't
looking. Do men ever know how fond women are
of them ? And Dick is kind and good. He really
IS, Kate.

" At three, the games. And here a most won-
derful surprise. Who should drive up to the pad-
dock but Lord Hunslope himself, and the countess
— ^who always gives me a cold shiver — and Lord
Launton } The earl marched straight up to us,
and shook hands with papa.

" ' Pray, Mr. Heathcote,' he said, in his lordliest
way, ' introduce Mr. Mortiboy to me.'

"The Heathcotes had- Parkside and Hunslope
too before ever the Launtons had left their counters
in the city ; but of course we didn't insist on our
superior rank at such a moment.

" Dick took off his hat with that curious pride
of equality which comes, I suppose, of having
estates in Mexico, and being able to throw the
lasso. The countess shook hands with everybody ;
and Lord Launton, blushing horribly, dropped his

A Matter-of-fact Story. 125

stick, and shook hands too, after he had picked it
up. I am quite sure that if Lord Launton, when
he becomes a peer, could only have the gas turned
off before he begins to speak, he would be made
Prime Minister in a week. As it is, poor young
man

"We all — I mean the aristocracy — stayed to-
gether the whole afternoon, bowing affably to our
friends of a lower rank in life — the Battiscombe
girls, and the Kerbys, and the rector's wife. I
really do not know how I am to descend again.
The earl made some most valuable remarks, which
ought to be committed to writing for posterity.
They may be found, though, scattered here and
there about the pages of English literature. The
curious may look for them. You see, ' Les esprits
forts se rencontrent.'

" After the games, the earl gave away the prizes.
I send you the local paper, giving an account of the
proceedings. Little Stebbing, Mr. Battiscombe's
clerk, was acting as reporter, and making an im-
mense parade at a small table, which he brought
himself. I never saw any one look so important.
I spoke to him once.

" * Pray, miss,' he said, * do not interrupt me. I

126 Ready-money M or tiboy.

represent the Press. The Fourth Estate, miss.
I'm afraid I shan't have enough flimsy.'

" Those were his very words, Kate. By flimsy, I
learn that he meant writing paper. Do our great
poets — does my adored Tennyson write on ' flimsy ?'
Then the Earl-ly party went away, and I made a
pun, which you may guess ; then we had tea ; then
we had dancing to the band on the platform — Dick
waltzes like a German angel — and then we had
supper. And then, O my dear Kate — alas ! alas !
such a disastrous termination to the evening — for
Dick put his foot into all the proprieties. It was
when they proposed his health. He hadn't fired
pistols at anybody, or taken the name of the mis-
sionaries in vain, or worn a Panama hat, or done
anything disgraceful at all. And now it was to
come. My poor cousin Dick ! How will he get
over it }

"They proposed his health after supper. The
children were simply intoxicated — not with beer,
for they had none: only lemonade and sweet
things — but with fun, fireworks, and fruit tart.
They cheered till their dear little throats were
hoarse. Even the ugliest, reddest-faced, turnedest-
up nosed girl looked prett}'- when papa called on
them to drink the health of the giver of the

A Matter-of-fact Story. 127

feast. My own heart swelled, and Lucy cried
outright.

" Then Dick got up. My dear, he looked simply
grand in the flicker of the gas jets stirred about by
the wind. He stood up, tall and strong, high up
above us all, and passed his left hand down his long
black beard. His brown eyes are so soft sometimes,
too. They were soft now ; and his under-lip has a
way of trembling when he is moved. He was
moved now. I can't remember all his speech. He
began by telling the children that he was more
happy to have them about him than they to come.
Then he began good advice. No one knows how
wise Dick is. He told them that what they wanted
was fresh air, plenty of grub — his word, Kate, not
mine — and not too many books. Here they all
screamed, and the clergymen shook their precious
heads. I said, * Hear, hear,' and mamma touched
me on my arm. It is wrong, of course, in a young
lady to have any opinions at all which the male sex
do not first instil into her tender mind. Then he
called their attention to the fact that they were not
always going to be children ; and that, if they
wanted plenty to eat, they would have to work hard
for it. And then he said, impressively shaking an
enormous great fist at them —

128 Ready-money Mortiboy.

" * And now, my boys and girls, remember this.
Don't you believe people who tell you to be con-
tented with what youVe got. That's all nonsense.
You've got to be discontented. The world is full of
good things for those who have the courage to get
up and seize them. Look round in your houses^
and see what you have ! then look round in rich
men's houses — say mine and the rector's — and see
what We've got. Then be discontented with your
own position till you're all rich too.'

" Here the rector rose, with a very red face.
" ' I cannot listen to this, Mr. Mortiboy — I must
not listen to it. You are undoing the Church's
teaching.'

" ' I've got nothing to do with the Church.*
" 'You are attacking the Church's Catechism.'
" * Does the Catechism teach boys to be con~

tented?'

" * It does, in explicit terms.'

" ' Then the Catechism is a most immoral book.^

" Dick wagged his head solemnly.

" ' Boys and girls, chuck the Catechism into the
fire, and be discontented.'

"Here the rector solemnly left the tent, and
everybody looked serious. Dick took no notice^
and went on.

A Matter-of-fact Story. 129

" ril tell you a story. In an English town that
I know, there were two boys and two girls. They
were all four poor, like most of you. They grew
up in their native place till they were eighteen and
twenty, and the boys fell in love with the girls.
One was a contented fellow. His father had been
a farm labourer, like some of your fathers. He
would go on being a farm labourer. The other
read that the world was full of ground that only
waited for a man to dig it up ; and he went away.
I saw him last year. He had been out for four
years. He had a farm, my boys, stocked with
cattle and horses, all his own. Think of that 1
And he had a wife, my girls ; his old sweetheart^
come out to marry him. Think of that ! Then I
came home. I saw the other boy, a farm labourer
still ! He was bent with rheumatism already, be-
cause he was a slave. He had no money: no
home : no prospects. And the girl he was to have
married — well, my girls, if your teachers are worth
their salt, they'll tell you what became of that girl.
Go out into the world, boys. Don't stick here,
crowding out the place, and trying to be called
gentlemen. What the devil do you want a black
coat for till you have earned it } Go out into the
beautiful places in the world, and learn what a man

VOL.11. 9

130 Ready-money Mortiboy,

is really worth. And now I hope youVe all en-
joyed yourselves. And so, good night."

" Oh ! Kate, Kate ! — here was a firebrand in our
very midst. And people are going about, saying
that Dick is an infidel. But they can*t shake his
popularity, for the town loves his very name."

Grace's letter was all true. Dick actually said
it. It was his solitary public oration. It had a
profound effect. In the half-lighted marquee, as
the big-bearded man stood towering over the chil-
dren, with his right arm waving them out into the
world — where.? No matter where: somewhere
away: somewhere into the good places of the
world — not a boy*s heart but was stirred within
him ; and the brave old English blood rose in them
as he spoke, in his deep bass tones, of the worth of
a single man in those far-off lands; — an oration
destined to bear fruit in after-days, when the lads,
who talk yet with bated breath of the speech and
the speaker, shall grow to man's estate.

** Dangerous, Dick,'* said Farmer John. "What
should I do without my labourers Y^

"Don't be afraid," said Dick. "There are not
ten per cent, have the pluck to go. Let us help
them, and you shall keep the rest."

CHAPTER THE NINTH.

HEN Frank left Mr. Burls's shop, he felt
that he had left it for good. It was
Monday evening at five o'clock. He
had received the money due to him for
painting and restoring on Saturday evening as
usual ; therefore, all that the dealer owed him for
was one day's work. This sum he determined to
make Mr. Burls a present of. It was better they
should not meet — at least, for the present, Frank
thought. For the sake of earning money, he had
borne for three months the coarse vulgarity and
purse-proud insolence of Burls. He had felt that
he should not be able to bear it much longer. The
time had come. He had spoken the truth. The
penalty was dismissal in anything but polite terms.

9—2

132 Ready -money Mortiboy.

He had seen Burls kick a man out of his shop for
an offence which, compared to what he had done,
was a trifle light as air. He felt he could work
for such a knave, but he could not condescend to
fight with him. So he prudently resolved to keep
away, and dismissed himself there and then.

It was not very likely that worthy old Dr. Perkins
would be able to overtake Frank ; for he was a
stout gentleman of sixty, more accustomed to jog
behind his cob along the white Holmshire roads
than to run full pelt down a London street. Nor
was his son-in-law of much assistance in the mat-
ter ; for losing sight of his impulsive relative after
the first few strides, and not catching a glimpse of
Frank, he prudently devoted himself to the task of
finding out where Dr. Perkins had disappeared to,
and three or four minutes after found him making
the most profuse apologies to a buxom lady he had
nearly upset in turning the corner of the street.
They did not return to Mr. Burls*s shop ; but,
calling a four-wheeler, drove to their hotel.

" I shall communicate at once with that young
man's friends," said this excellent old clergyman,
as soon as he had recovered his breath. **I am
shocked and grieved to see him wandering about
like a child of Ishmael in this wilderness of houses.

A Matter-of-fact Story. 133

It would kill me. Only think of a young fellow
brought up as he was, being reduced to such a
pass ! Nobody blames his unfortunate father now.
There are plenty to help him and his poor dear
mother and sister, and he shall be put in a way
of doing something for himself without a day's
delay."

It was not to be surprised at that Frank was not
overtaken by the friends who pursued him, for he
had turned up a court — entered by a low archway,
with shops on each side of it — ^while they had shot
past it, keeping on their way straight down the street.
In this court, at a comfortable eating-house, Frank
was in the habit of taking his meals. He had his
pot of tea, bread and butter, and watercresses, read
the evening paper as usual, and started to walk
home to his lodgings at Islington, just as the two
gentlemen, who would have given almost anything
to know where he was, were sitting down to their
dinner at the Tavistock in Covent-garden.

"It must have come to this very soon," he
thought, as he walked homewards ; but he felt
rather down at being again a man without an
employment. " I couldn't have stood his com-
pany much longer. But I am such an unlucky
beggar : if it had happened a fortnight ago, or a

134 Ready-money Mortiboy,

week or two hence, I should not have owed that
confounded landlady anything."

The truth was, ever since Frank had been in
Mr. Burls's employment, he had sent as much
money as he could possibly scrape together by
post-office order to his mother and sister, living in
a farmhouse in the romantic village of Llan-y-
Fyddloes. Their little income of two pounds a-
week was quite enough for their modest wants
there, Kate often told him, in her weekly letter —
a chronicle of small beer Frank looked forward to
on a Monday morning with a feverish longing ; for
did it not always contain a letter from Grace, his
love, to her dear friend Kate, which Mistress Kate
enclosed for him to read, but which he never, on
one single occasion, sent back in his next, as Kate
invariably desired him to do.? But Frank knew^
though the money would not be spent, it would
cheer his mother — and, for the matter of that^
Kate too. They would have the strongest possible
proof that he was getting on in the world. He
had more than he wanted for himself, and could
contribute to their support ; and he wrote very
flourishing accounts of how he was selling his
works, and Kate would perceive how necessary it
was for him to see Hampstead, and Highgate, and

A Matter-of-fact Story. 135

Richmond, and other of those charming suburbs of
London, to fill his sketch-book with pretty bits ; so
she was to consider him a gipsy student of art, now
camping here, now there, not tied to any spot above
a week or so, roaming at his royal pleasure in search
of the Picturesque. And so letters to him, to
avoid delays, had better be addressed to a certain
post-office, for Francis Melliship, Esquire, till called
for ; and as he was in London very often, he would
always call when he expected a letter from her or
from his mother, and they were the only people he
wrote to now.

Not one word of the drudgery in Burls*s manu-
factory of the sham antique ; not one word of the
dingy lodging in the back street ; not one word of
the groans of the lover's heart at the hopeless
distance that still lay between Frank Melliship and
Grace Heathcote.

In his letters, all was rose-coloured.

"Do you know, I really think Frank will do
well, Kate," Mrs. Melliship said. " It is plain he is
getting on with his pictures. I wish he had not so
much boyish pride."

" Mamma, Frank is independent. He relies on
himself, as a man should. I admire him for
it."

136 Ready-money Mortiboy.

" Well, my dear, I never heard of an artist that
was what I call well off who wasn't an R.A. Who
was that R.A. your father used to invite to stay
with us ? — the man that used to stop the carriage
while he sketched things — dear me, I know it quite
well ! And when Frank could be an R.A., if he
could get on as fast as possible, I don't really quite
know — though it must be some years, of course.
But he is certainly doing well, for he has sent us ten
pounds twice within a month. No, I am wrong —
five weeks. He is a dear, good boy ; and I feel
our misfortune more for him, Kate, than for you
and me. Oh, dear ! they all know it wasn't your
poor father's fault at all; and I'm sure John
Heathcote, besides many others I could mention,
would do anything in the world for Frank. I
suppose, poor boy, he has set his heart on
Grace .?"

" Yes," said Kate, demurely.

"Well, I always loved Grace and Lucy very
much, and I could treat her as a daughter, and I
should like to see Frank married and happy. I've
heard your poor father say very often that John
Heathcote could settle a handsome sum on his
daughters when they married ; and Kate, my dear,
I think we ought to know Frank's address in Lon-

A Matter-of-fact Story. 137

don, and give it to friends who want to help him,
and are always writing to me about it. A letter
left at a post-office always reminds me so of Flo-
rence, where I was so miserable, because my dear
mother died there ; and we did not always get the
letters that we had no reasonable doubt were posted
to us — long before I married your poor father,
Kate."

" Yes, mamma," Kate said, mechanically.

Her mother would run on for an hour, from sub-
ject to subject ; and Kate often was thinking of
something else, and only spoke when her mother
came to a stop. Mrs. Melliship proceeded —

" I certainly like this village, though the name,
and, for the matter of that, the people are very
outlandish ; and I should not care to go back to
Market Basing, Kate, unless I could have my car-
riage. We used to visit people such a distance in
the country, and we could not well do it without a
carriage."

"Oh, don^t let us go back to Market Basing,
mamma. I like Wales so much."

" Well, my dear, I shall live wherever you wish
me to, for I may say I live now entirely for you and
Frank."

Here the simple lady took out her handkerchief,

138 Ready-money Mortiboy.

and shed a few tears — a termination to her speeches
more common than not.

Then the two women kissed and comforted each
other; and Kate found a book to amuse her
mother.

Frank was in the habit of working an hour or
two by gaslight of an evening, with pencil or
crayons ; but he was rather disgusted with art that
night, and looked round his little sitting-room in a
gloomy mood.

" Ah !" he said, " if people who must have pic-
tures for their houses would only buy an honest
new picture instead of a spurious old one, artists
might live. After all, the worst of our works are
better than what they do buy : they are what they
appear. Why not go to the exhibitions, and buy
some of the unsold pictures there ? Or come to a
fellow's place } We're poor enough to be modest
in our charges. But they will have real Old Mas-
ters at ten pounds a-piece ; and there the dealers
beat us. Art! There is no feeling for art in
England — no desire to encourage artists of any
kind. They're only a lowish sort of fellows. And
then the beggars must go to dealers to buy their
ancestors !"

A Matter-of-fact Story. 1 39

He laughed savagely, and stuck the end of his
brush through a half-finished sketch on paper.

" I wonder who'll paint Burls's genuine old pic-
tures now ; and dodge up the rubbish from the
sales, and clean, and tone, and line, and varnish,
and crack ? What humbug it all is !"

There was a knock at his door, and his landlady's
grubby little daughter gave him a note written on
a sheet of paper, and enclosed in an envelope she
had ten minutes before sent the young lady out to
purchase for a halfpenny at the shop round the
comer.

The corner bore the family impress — a dirty
finger and thumb they put on everything they
touched.

Frank laughed. He never could be surly with a
child in his life.

" Tell your mother Til see her before I go out in
the morning."

He owed two pounds four and sixpence for rent
and commodities supplied, and he had only sixteen
and sixpence to pay it with ; which, under all the
circumstances of the case, was awkward.

What wonders a good night's rest will effect !

In the morning, Frank paid his landlady ten
shillings on account, listened to her impertinence

140 Ready-money Mortiboy.

without a reply, and quietly told her to let his
lodgings, and keep his portmanteau for security till
he paid her. He should not come back again, ex-
cept to fetch away his things.

He had dressed himself in a new suit of clothes
he had ordered on the strength of his successful
manufacture of Old Cromes and other masters.
Nothing could make Frank look other than a gen-
tleman ; but to-day he looked quite like his old
self of six months ago. He was not at all miser-
able ; on the contrary, he felt quite happy and
cheerful.

To be sure, it was a bright day — not too warm —
when merely to breathe is a pleasure, even if you
are a convict in Portland. Besides, he was free
from a drudgery at which his soul had always
revolted.

"But what next.?" he asked himself. "Any-
how, IVe done with painting. No more oils for
me.

Passing a pawnbroker's as he spoke, he went in,
for the first time in his life, and asked how much
the man would advance on his watch and chain.
He thanked the man for his information, and left
the shop with his watch in his pocket.

A Matter-of-fact Story. 141

" By Jove !" he said, " here's a new source of
wealth. I can pawn everything by degrees."

Then he strolled westwards.

The omnibuses had blue and white posters on
them — " To Lord's Cricket Ground."

"Why, it's the Oxford and Cambridge match
to-day."

Without stopping to think twice, he jumped on
an omnibus.

" Why shouldn't I go .? I can stick myself
somewhere out of sight. I wonder how many of
our Eleven I know."

He counted them on his fingers. He wanted to
see and yet not be seen.

Just as he was getting off the seat he had occu-
pied by the driver's side, a carriage passed by.
Lord Launton was in it, with the countess and two
other ladies.

Frank saw the danger he should run of seeing a
number of old and inquisitive acquaintances.

He hesitated a moment in the dusty road.

" No — it's nothing to me. I've no interest in it
now. I won't go in. Besides, it's half-a-crown, I
think."

He took the footway, and set his face towards
Regent's Park.

142 Ready-money Mortiboy,

He had not walked a dozen steps when an im-
mense hand and arm were linked in his. He felt
a friendly pull towards some great figure ; and,
looking up, was astonished beyond measure to see
himself arm-in-arm with his cousin, Dick Morti-
boy.

" Frank, old man !" cried Dick, crushing Frank*s
hand in his cordial grasp, " I would have given fifty
pounds to find you, and here you are. I saw you
getting off the 'bus."

Frank was surprised, and a little annoyed.

"After all, I've got no quarrel with Dick," he
thought ; and his face cleared, and he returned his
cousin's salute.

Dick Mortiboy was accompanied by a thin, pale-
faced man, slight and foreign-looking.

" Lafleur — my cousin Frank," said Dick, intro-
ducing him.

"Fool of an Englishman," thought Lafleur,
staring at Frank's bright, handsome face. "I
leave you with your cousin. The cricket is not a
game I care to waste time over," said he, softly.
" We shall meet to-morrow, Dick. You will let me
go now."

" To-morrow, at eleven. My old partner, Frank.
Many is the jovial day we have had together."

A Matter-of-fact Story. 143

*' I don't like his looks."

" Insular prejudice, my cousin. Why have you
never sent me your address, as you promised } Do
you not know what has happened } The governor
has got a stroke, and I've got all the money.
We've all been trying to find you out. And here
you are. I shan't let you go again in a hurry, I
promise you."

He looked Frank up and down.

" Dressed fit for Broadway. Come on in."

Dick paid for two at the gate, and they were on
the ground.

Dick watched the match with great earnestness.
He was a splendid hand at games of skill himself.
He knew nobody, nobody knew him. But his
height, his splendid beard and brown face, and his
careless dress, attracted observation. He only
wanted people to bet with on the match to make
him happy.

Frank saw lots of old friends.

They asked him his address.

" Only in town for a few days," he said, with an
airy laugh.

At length Dick got tired of it,

" Come on, old man. I've had enough, if you
have. Let's go."

144 Ready-money Mortiboy.

At the gates, as they went out, stood a man who
had been Frank*s greatest friend at college. They
had rowed together, driven to Newmarket together,
got plucked together, written to each other until
the smash came.

" Frank, by gad !" cried the man, running down
the steps. " Shake hands, old fellow. And how
are you } And what are you doing ? Tell me
youVe got over your troubles. I heard all about it.*'

It was like a burst of sunshine, after the wretched
time of the last few months, to find men who were
glad to shake hands with him.

Frank tried to laugh ; but his mirth was rather
a hollow thing.

"Tm well, you see, Evelyn. That is, Fm not
starving yet. But there's no money, and I'm still
in a parenthetical stage of life."

" You know my address, Frank — give me yours.
Let me help you, for old times' sake."

" Thank you, my dear Evelyn. It's like you to
make the ofi*er. Good-bye. I'll give you an
address — when I've got one."

He left him, and walked quickly away on Dick's
arm. He could not bear to let anybody help him
with money. And yet Evelyn was longing to give
his old friend help.

A Matter-of-fact Story, 145

What is there in this word money, that I may
neither give it nor take it ? Why should I be
degraded if a man slips a sovereign in my hand ?
Sovereigns are not plentiful. I should like the
money. I am not degraded if a man leaves me a
legacy of many sovereigns.

"Come," said Dick Mortiboy to Frank, when
they had got out of their Hansom in Piccadilly,
*'you are not engaged to-night. Come and dine
with me. . After dinner we will talk. I hate talk-
ing before. Let us have a game at billiards
first."

He led the way to a public room near Jermyn-
street. There were two or three men idly knocking
the balls about. Dick took up a cue and made a
stroke, missing it.

"Will you play fifty or a hundred up, Frank Y'

" I play very badly. I am quite out of prac-
tice."

" Well, let it be fifty then," said Dick.

The room was one of bad repute. It was fre-
quented by sharpers. There were three in the
room — of course, perfect strangers to one another.

Dick Mortiboy didn't know the character of the
room he was in, and didn't care. He could give an
account of himself anywhere. For his part, Frank

VOL. II. 10

146 Ready-money Mortiboy,

had not played a game at billiards since he left
Market Basing.

He was not amusement for Dick, for he played
like a man wholly out of practice.

The gentlemen in the room became interested in
the first fifty up between Dick and Frank, and one
bet another a wager of half-a crown on the result.

Dick won, and the loser offered to bet again, if
the tall gentleman gave the other points. Dick
did give points. The man — ^whom the marker
called " Captain" — ^then offered to bet Dick Morti-
boy half-a-crown his friend beat him. Dick took
the bet, won it, and pocketed the half-crown. He
was going to play another game with Frank, but
was stopped by the marker.

" This is a public table, sir. Two fifty games, or
one hundred, between the same players ; then
another gentleman has the table, if he likes to take
it."

Dick was a little annoyed, but gave way.

" Should you like to play a game, sir T said the
marker to the man he had called Captain.

The fellow was a seedy swell, in clothes that had
been fast twelve months ago, but now were well
worn. His hat and boots showed signs of poverty.

" I should ; but I don't wish to prevent these

A Matter-of-fact Story, 147

gentlemen from playing, I'm sure. I'll give way;
but, really, I can't stay many minutes."

" Well, perhaps the gentleman that won will play
a game with you — if you don't mind playing the
winner ?" the marker said.

" All right," said Dick, and pulled off his coat.

The Captain played badly: so did Dick.

Both were playing dark.

" Twenty all " was called.

" Shall we have a crown on, sir, to 'liven the
game V said the stranger.

** I'll back myself for a sovereign," said Dick.

" I don't often play for a sovereign a game," said
the Captain ; " but I don't mind doing it for
once."

When Spot (the stranger) was forty. Plain (Dick)
was only thirty-five.

" Make it a hundred up, sir, and have another
sov on," said Spot.

" Done," said Plain.

Dick had bets, too, with the other two strangers
and the marker.

At the end of the game, he had four pounds five
shillings to pay.

Frank spoke his suspicions, in a low tone, before
this game was finished.

10 — 2

148 Ready-money Mortiboy,

Dick only nodded : he had seen they were com-
mon sharpers from the moment he entered the
room.

" I'll let them have it," he said.

They played another game — Frank watching
Dick's play. Up to the time the marker cried
"sixty — seventy-two," Dick was behind generally
about a dozen. His bets amounted to nearly
twenty pounds with the three men.

Up to sixty he had played in a slovenly manner.
At that point he took up his cue, and scored out in
two breaks.

His play was superb. He was within a few
points in a hundred of the best professional form.
One of the men was going to leave the room. Dick
called him back, and promised to finish the game
in three minutes, and did it.

He asked the Captain if he would like another
game }

"Not with a professional sharp. Though who
you are, I don't know."

" You'll pay up then, gentlemen V asked Dick.

One of the other men whispered the Captain.

" My friend suggests that it would be well if you
were to give your name, sir. It is not usual to see
men play in your fashion. You have sharped us.

A Matter-df'fact Story, 149

sir — sharped us. Give us your name and address
— ^we are not going to part."

" Now, Captain," said Dick, " youVe been licked,
and licked easy. You may take it fighting, or you
may take it quiet. Which shall it be ?"

" Come on, Tom, don*t let him bustle us out of
it," said the Captain ; " TU take it fighting."

There were four altogether, with the marker.
They made a rush on Dick. Frank, not unmindful
of Eton days, took them in flank, while Dick re-
ceived them in front.

They had not the ghost of a chance. It was a
mere affair of fists — a sort of light skirmish, which
warmed up Dick's blood, and made him rejoice
once more, like a Berserker, in the battle. And,
after three minutes, the four fell back, and the
cousins stood, with their backs against the wall,
laughing.

" And now," said Dick, " open the door,
Frank."

He stepped forward, seized the marker, who was
foremost, by the coat-collar, and bore him swiftly
to the door — the others not interfering. There was
a great crash of breaking bannisters. The marker
had been thrown down the stairs.

"Don't let us fight with servants," said Dick;

ISO Ready-money Mortiboy,

"let us have it out like gentlemen. Now then.
Captain, we're all ready again."

" Let us go/' said the Captain, with a pale face,
handing Dick the money. " You have sharped and
bustled us, and you want to bully us."

" You shall go when you have apologized to me.
Captain — not before. You other two, get out."

He looked so fierce, and was undoubtedly so
heavy about the fist, that the other two, taking
their hats, departed swiftly, with such dignity as
their wounds allowed.

" Now, Captain, let us two have a little explana-
tion. I like rooking the rooks. I go about doing
it. Beg my pardon, sir, or I'll spoil your play, too,
for a month of Sundays."

He seized the poor billiard-player by the collar,
and shook him as if he had been a child.

"You may do what you like," said the man.
" You have got every farthing I have in the world,
and my little child's ill ; but I'm hanged if I beg
your pardon."

" Dick, Dick," said Frank, " give him back his
money."

But, at the sight of the man's misery, Dick's
wrath had suddenly vanished.

"Poor devil!" he said. "I've had some bad

A Matter-of-fact Story. 151

times myself, mate, out in the States. Look here
— here's your money, and something for the little
one. And I say, Captain, if you see me drawing
the rooks anywhere else, don't blow on me. Good-
bye. Come, Frank, let us go and dine. What a
good thing a scrimmage is to give one an appetite.
I do like a regular British row," said Dick, with a
sigh ; " and one so seldom gets one. Now, over
the water, somebody always lets fly a Deringer, or
pulls out a bowie, and then the fun's spoiled.
You've got a clean style, Frank — very clean and
finished. I thought we were in for it when I saw
the place ; so I went on. I was determined you
should enjoy yourself thoroughly, old boy."

They had dinner, and talked. Dick's talk was
all the same thing. It said —

" Take my money. Let me help you. Let me
give. I am rich. I like to give."

Frank, with a proud air, put him off, and made
him talk of anything but him and his affairs.

CHAPTER THE TENTH.

^ i,STREET, as Frank stepped
into it from Dick's hotel,
was alive with people, for
the night was warm and
fine. He bade his rich
cousin good night, in his
easy pleasant way, never
hinting at the sore straits
to which he was reduced,
Dick was rather inclined to
believe, indeed, from what
little information he was able to elicit from Frank,
that Art paid ; — that Frank got a living at it, at all
events, and was too proud to be helped when he
saw the chance of doing well without help. Now,

A Matter-of-fact Stoiy, 153

Dick rather admired this phase of Frank's cha-
racter — as who would not ? Yet he resolved that,
when he saw him the next day, he would compel
him to disclose the state of his finances and his
prospects. While one cousin thought this, the
other hesitated a moment in front of the hotel,
remembering suddenly that he had no bed to go
to. It was a curious sensation, the most novel he
had ever experienced. No bed. Nowhere to go
to. No money, or next to none, in his pocket.
Nothing at all resembling a home. Even a port-
able tent, or a Rob Roy canoe, would have been
something. He shook himself all over, like a dog.
Then he laughed, for he had had a capital day, and
a good dinner, and he was only five and twenty.

" Hang it," he said, ** a night in the open won't
kill one, I suppose. Dick Mortiboy must have had
many in his travelling days."

Then he lit a cigar. Dick had forced a dozen
upon hint — which, with that curious feeling that
permits a man to take anything except money from
another, Frank accepted with real gratitude. With
his hands in his pockets, and his hat well back on
his head, as all old Eton boys wear it, he strolled
westward, turning things over in his mind in that
resignedly amused frame of mind which comes

154 Ready-momy Mortiboy,

upon the most unhappy wight after a bottle and
a-half of claret. Our ancestors, in their kindly
brutality, permitted condemned criminals to have
a long drink on the way to Tyburn. The punch-
bowl was brought out somewhere near the site of
the Marble Arch ; and the condamnd, fortified and
brightened up by the drink, ascended the ladder
with a jaunty air, and kicked off his shoes before
an admiring populace ; — just as well, it seems to
me, as keeping the poor wretch low, and making
him feel all his misery up to the very last. Frank,
having had his bowl of punch, was about to embark
upon that wild and hopeless voyage of despair,
which consists in sailing from port to port, looking
for employment and finding none. There are cer-
tain ships to be met with in the different havens of
the world, which are from time to time to be found
putting in, "seeking." They never find. From
Valparaiso they go to Rio ; from Pernambuco to
Port Louis : from Calcutta to Kingston ; from
Havana to Shanghai. They are always roving
about the ocean, always " seeking," and always in
ballast. Who are their owners ; how the grizzled
old skipper keeps his crew together ; how they pay
for the pickled pork and rum in which they delight ;
how they have credit for repairs to rigging and

A Matter-of-fact Story. 155

sails ; how the ship is docked, and scraped, and
kept afloat — all these things are a profound
mystery. After a time, as I have reason for be-
lieving, they disappear ; but this must be when
there is no longer any credit possible, and all the
ports in the world are closed to them. Probably
at this juncture the skipper calls together his men,
makes the weather-beaten tars a speech, tells them
that their long and happy voyages must now ter-
minate, because there is no more pickled pork and
no more rum, and discloses to them a long-hidden
secret. They cheer feebly, set the sails once more,
turn her head due North, and steer away to that
warm, windless, iceless ocean at the North Pole,
where all vagrom ships betake themselves at last,
and live together in peace and harmony far from
the storms of the world.

Which things are an allegory. Ships are but
as men. The North Pole ocean is as that hidden
deep where dwell the men who have " gone under."
They " go under " every day, falling off at each
reverse more and more from the paths of honesty.
One of them called on me a week ago. I had met
him once, and only once, at Oxford, years since.
He shook hands with me as with his oldest and
best friend ; he sat down ; he drank my sherry ; he

156 Ready-money Mortiboy,

called me old fellow ; and presently, when he
thought my heart was open to the soft influence of
pity, he told me his tale, and — borrowed thirty
shillings. He went away. Of course, I found that
his tale was all a lie. He is welcome to his thirty
shillings, with which I have earned the right of shut-
ting my door in the face of a man who has gone under.

Was Frank thinking of all this as he walked
through the squares that clear, bright night, among
the houses lit up for balls, and the carriages bearing
their precious treasures of dainty women t I know
not. The thoughts of a man who has but six and
sixpence in his pocket, and no bed to go to, are like
a child's. They are long, long thoughts. If it is
cold and rainy, if he is hungry or ill, he despairs
and blasphemes. If it is bright and warm, if he is
well-fed and young, he laughs and sings, with a
secret, half-felt sinking of the heart, and a looking
forward to evil times close at hand.

Along the squares, outside the great houses —
where the rich — and therefore happy, were dancing
and feasting, thinking little enough (why should
they.^) about the poor, and therefore miserable,
outside — beggars came up to Frank. One old man,
who looked as if he had been a gentleman, stood in
front of him suddenly.

A Matter-of-fact Story, 157

"Give me something," he said, bringing his
clenched fists down at his sides in a gesture of de-
spair. "Give me something. I am desperately poor."

Frank put sixpence into his hand and passed on.

" Only six shillings left now," he thought.

Women — those dreadful women, all alike, who
l^elong to certain districts of London, and appear
only late at night — begged of him. These women
apparently form a class peculiar to themselves.
They are neither old nor young. They carry a
baby. They are dressed in rusty black. They
bear in one hand three boxes of cigar lights. They
address you as "good gentleman," and claim to
have six starving babies at home, and nothing to
put in their mouths. Then the boys with cigar lights
ran after him ; and then more sturdy beggars,
more women, and more boys.

He walked on. It struck ten. Frank's cigar
was finished. Just then he passed — it was in one
of those dingy, characterless streets, near the great
squares — a low-browed, retiring-looking public
house. From its doors issued the refrain of a song,
the clinking of glasses, and stamping of feet. Frank
stopped.

" I've got exactly six shillings," he said. " I may
surely have a glass of beer out of that."

IS8 Ready-money Moriiboy,

He went in and drank his glass. As he drank it^
another song, horribly sung, began in the room
behind the bar.

" Like to go in, sir ?" asked the barmaid. " It's
quite full. We hold it every Monday evening."

Frank thought he might as well sit down, and
see what was going on — particularly as there
appeared to be no charge for admission.

It was a long, low room at the back, filled with
about thirty men, chiefly petty tradesmen of the
neighbourhood. Every man was smoking a long
clay pipe, and had a tumbler before him. Every
man was perfectly sober, and wore an air of
solemnity exceedingly comic. One of the men —
the most solemn and the most comic — occupied
the chair. By his right stood a piano, where a pale^
faced boy of eighteen or so was playing accom-
paniments to the songs. A gentleman with a red
face and white hair was sitting well back in his
chair, holding his pipe straight out before him,
chanting with tremendous emphasis and some diffi-
culty — because he was short of breath. This, and
not an imperfect education, caused him to- ac-
centuate his aspirates more strongly than was
actually required : —

A Matter-of-fact Story, 159

" Ho ! the ma-haids of me-herry Hengle-land,
How be-hew-ti-ful hare they !"

Somewhat apart from the rest, not at the table
— as if he did not belong to them — sat a man of
entirely different appearance. He was gorgeously
attired in a brown velvet coat and white waistcoat,
with a great profusion of gold chain and studs. He
was about five and forty years of age. His features
were highly Jewish, with the full lips and large nose
of that Semitic race. His hair, thick and black,4ay
in massive rolls on an enormous great head — the
biggest head, Frank thought, that he had ever seen.
In his hand, big in proportion, was a tumbler of
iced soda and brandy. He was smoking a cigar,
and beating time impatiently on the arm of his
chair.

Frank sat modestly beside him, and ordered
another glass of beer.

" Know this place, sir .?" asked the man with the
big head, turning to him.

" Never saw it before," said Frank.

" No more did I. Queer crib, isn't it } I turned
in by accident, because I was thirsty. They'll ask
you to sing directly. Do, if you can."

The " Maids of Merry England " died away in
the last bars which those who were behind time

i6o Ready-money Mortiboy,

added to the original melody ; and the chairman,
taking up his tumbler, bowed to the singer, and
said solemnly —

" Mr. Pipkin, sir, your health and song."

The company all did the same. Mr. Pipkin
wiped his brow, and took a long pull at his gin and
water.

" Now," said the chairman, persuasively, " who
is going to oblige the company with the next
song T

Dead silence.

" Perhaps one of the visitors " — here he looked
at Frank — " will oblige us V

" If you can sing, do," growled Bighead.

" Really," said Frank, " I am afraid I hardly
know any song that would please ; but, if you like,
I will sing a little thing I made myself once, words
and music too."

" Hear, hear !" said the chair. " Silence, if you
please, gentlemen, for the gentleman^s song. Gen-
tlemen, the gentleman written it himself."

Frank took the place of the pale-cheeked mu-
sician, and played his prelude. He was going to
sing a song which he made at Cambridge, and used
to sing at wines and suppers.

" It's only a very little thing," he said, address-

A Matter-of-fact Story, i6i

ing the audience generally. " If you don't like it,
pray stop me at the first verse. It never had a
name."

" There was Kate, with an eye like a hawk ;

There was Blanche, with an eye like a fawn ;
There was Fanny, as fresh as the rose on its stalk ;

And Annie, as bright as the dawn.
There were Polly, and Dolly, and Jessie, and Rose,
They were fair, they were dark, they were short, they
were tall ;
I changed like a weathercock when the wind blows,
For I loved them all — ^and I loved them alL

" Like the showers and sunshine of spring,

The quarrels and kisses I had ;
Like a forest-bird fledgeling trying its wing,

Is the flight of the heart of a lad.
Oh ! Annie and Fanny, and Jessie and Kate,

How love vows perish, and promises fall !
You were all pledged to me, and I wasn't your fate ;

But I loved you all — and I loved you all.

" 'Twas Annie I kissed in the wood,

And Fanny kissed me in the lane ;
But Rosie held out, as a young maiden should,

Till she found I'd not ask her again.
Now they're married, and mothers, and all,

And 'tis Lucy clings close to my breast ;
And we never tell her, what we never recall —

For I love my wife — how I loved the rest."

VOL.11. II

i62 Ready-mofuy Mortiboy,

** Bravo !" growled the man with the big head.
" Bravo ! young fellow. Devilish well sung."

" Sir," said the chairman, " your health and
song."

" Don't get up," said Bighead ; " sing another.
Look here, sing that Mr. Chairman, the gentle-
man's going to sing another song."

It was " Adelaide," that supreme tenor song —
the song of songs — ^that the man handed to Frank.
He took it from a portfolio which was standing
beside him.

"Yes," he said, nodding, " Tm a sort of pro-
fessional, and I know a good voice when I hear it.
Can you play the accompaniment ? If not, I
will."

Frank yielded him the seat, and took the music.
Yes, he could sing "Adelaide." But how long
since he sang it last ! And — ah me ! — in what
altered circumstances !

But he sang. With all the sweetness and power
of his voice he filled the room — laden with the air
of so many pipes and reeking tumblers — with the
yearnings of passion, which have never found such
utterance as in this great song. The honest folk
behind their pipes sat in amazement, half compre-
hending — but only half. The barmaid crept from

A Matter-of-fact Story. 163

behind the counter to the door, and listened : when
the song was finished, she went back with tears in
her eyes, and a throbbing heart. She was not too
old to feel the yearning after love. The pale-faced
young musician listened till his cheeks glowed and
his eyes brightened : the poor boy had dreams
beyond his miserable surroundings. The player —
the big-headed man — as he played, wagged his
head, and shook his curls, and let the tears roll
down his great big nose,* and drop upon the keys.
For Frank, forgetting where he was, and remem-
bering his love, and how he sang that song last to
her, poured out his heart into the notes, and sang
as one inspired.

" Come with me," said Bighead, seizing him by
the arm as soon as he had finished. " Come away.
Let us talk, you and I — let us talk."

He dragged him into the street. The clocks
were striking twelve.

" Which is your way ?"

" Which is yours ?" said Frank.

The man moved his fat forefinger slowly round
his head in a complete circle.

" All ways," he said. " Let me walk part of
your way."

II— 2

164 Ready-money Mortiboy,

Frank turned to the left. It mattered nothing.
" Are you rich ? — ^you are a gentleman, I see-

but are you rich, happy, satisfied, contented, money
in your pocket, money in the bank, therefore
virtuous and respected V

" No — I am none of these things."
" Then make yourself all these. Sing for money.
Go on the stage. Good God, man ! — Giuglini him-
self had not so sweet a voice. Give me your name
and address." Frank hesitated. " Well, then, take
mine." He gave him a card. "Will you come
and see me ? That can do you no harm, you know.
Come."

"Candidly," said Frank, "I am looking for
employment. But I would rather not sing for
money."

"Rubbish! Pve done it. Fve sung second
basso at the Italian Opera. Not sing for money !
Why not ? You'd write for money, I suppose "i
You'd paint for money .^ Why not sing.? Now,
come and pay me a visit, and talk it over."

" I must look about first. Are you really
serious ?"

" Quite. I don't care how it is you Ve got into a
hole — ^whether it's money, or what it is. On the
boards, nobody cares much."

A Matter-of-fact Story, 165

" You are quite welcome to know everything, so
far as I am concerned," said Frank, proudly.

" So much the better. Then no offence. When
will you come T

" I will look for occupation to-morrow. If I don't
get it, I will call on you in the afternoon."

" To-morrow. Good. Of course you won*t get
anything to do. How should you t Nobody ever
gets anything to do. Good night, my dear sir.
For heaven's sake, take care of your throat. Do
wrap it up. Let me lend you a wrapper."

He took a clean red silk handkerchief out of his
pocket, unfolded it, and wrapped it round Frank's
throat, tenderly and softly. In the eyes of the big-
headed man, Frank's voice was a fortune.

" Good heavens ! if anything were to happen to
an organ like that from exposure ! Are you going
to smoke again } Then take one of my cigars —
they must be better than yours."

" Mine are good enough, I think," said Frank,
laughing, offering him one.

" Let me look — let me look. Yes, they're very
fair. Don't smoke too much. And — and — " here
he held out his hand — "Good-bye — good-bye.
Mind you come to see me. For heaven's sake,
take care."

i66 Ready-money Mortiboj'.

He strode away, leaving his red silk handkerchief
round Frank's neck ; and presently Frank heard
him hail a Hansom in stentorian tones, and drive
off. Then he was left alone, and began to feel a
little cold, as if the weather had suddenly chained.

CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH.

[ALF-PAST twelve. The air of the
streets is close and stifling. The Mall,
St. James's Park, is still crowded. No
wonder ; for the air of the park is fresh,
and the moonlight lies soft and bright on the trees.
Frank slowly descends the steps at the Duke of
York's column, and proceeds to search for a resting-
place. All the seats — he counted them as he went
along, forty — appear to be full, some of them occu-
pied by men stretched at full length, others by
women sitting two and three together. All the
way to Buckingham Palace there is not a single
chance even of sitting room.

"Very odd," said Frank, returning, "that the
same idea should strike all these people as well as
myself What is to be done next ?"

1 68 Ready-money Mortiboy.

The problem solved itself as he came to the next
seat, where a man was lying at full length. He
suddenly rolled round, and came with a heavy
thud on the gravel. Picking himself up, he stag-
gered to where Frank was standing.

"I shay, old f'Tr — don't take that place, be- be-
cause it's going round."

Then he disappeared.

Frank sat down, and, stretching his legs on the
wood, pulled his hat over his eyes, and tried to go
to sleep.

It was of no use. Just as he was dropping off a
cab would come by. People talked as they walked
past. A breath of the night air touched his cheek,
and reminded him that he was not in bed. Besides,
the bench was as hard as a third-class railway car-
riage. Even to an old campaigner, wood makes a
poor substitute for a spring mattress.

"Hang these knots," said Frank, as the clock
struck one. "I had no idea that knots were so
much harder than common wood."

He shifted his position, and tried to persuade
himself that he was getting sleepy.

"Adversity," he murmured, "makes one ac-
quainted with strange beds. The advantage of the
situation is, that one is not afraid of fleas."

A Matter-of-fact Story, 169

A caterpillar fell upon his nose.

He sat up in disgust.

"Alternative. We may have caterpillars if we
lie under a tree, or we may be watered by the fresh
dew from Heaven if we take a bench outside a tree.
Which shall we do } Let us consider."

He lay back, and fell asleep.

Five minutes after he lost consciousness, he was
awakened by something touching his feet. He
started up from a dream of soft couches.

"I beg a thousand pardons,'* said a soft voice.
" I thought there was room for two."

The speaker, as the half light of a summer night,
not to speak of the gas, showed him, was a tall and
rather handsome man of thirty or so, dressed in a
frock coat. Frank noticed at once that the heels
of his boots, as the lamp shone on them, were worn
to the stumps. Further investigation showed that
there were no signs of collar or shirt, and that his
hat, as he took it off with a polite wave, was limp
at the brim. By daylight, what appeared -now as
glossiness, would have shown as grease ; but this it
was impossible to tell by the moonlight.

" I dare say there's room for two," said Frank,
** if we economize legs."

The stranger gravely took his place, and they

I/O Ready-money Mortiboy,

»

divided the space so as to admit of four legs, all
rather longer than the average.

"Do you a — often — use this place?" inquired
the stranger."

" No," said Frank, with a laugh, half in bitterness,
" This is the first time that I have tried the hotel.
Perhaps it will not be the last. I find it draughty
— exposed, perhaps, in situation. No doubt, ex-
tremely healthy."

"Ah!" said the other, with a ready sympathy.
" You have, however, let me assure you; the very
best bench, for a warm night, in the whole park.
Are you sleepy, sir.?"

" Not very. Who the devil can sleep here V

" When you are used to it, it is really not bad
for two or three months in the year. If I only had
some tobacco, I should be quite comfortable."

" Take a cigar. I've got a few left."

He pulled out his case, and handed it to his
newly made acquaintance.

"A thousand thanks. When I was in the 4th
Buffs — you've heard of that regiment } — I used to
buy my cigars at Hudson's. I've got to smoke
shag now, and can't always get that. A capital
cigar. I'm very much obliged to you, sir — very —
much — obliged — indeed. A very good cigar. If

A Matter-of-fact Story, \^\

you were to keep them for a year in tea, you would
find them ripen better, perhaps. But a very good
cigar. I suppose you are hard up ?"

"Yes. Most of the visitors at this caravanserai
are, I presume."

" In the service V

" No."

"Ah! Excuse my impertinence. Well, I had
my fling, and here I am. What does it matter to
a philosopher?"

A slouching figure came by, apparently clad in
the cast-off rags of some field scarecrow. He
stopped before Frank's new friend.

" Night, Major."

" Good night to you, Jacob," said the other, with
a patronizing air. " Things been going pretty well
to-day.?"

"No, dam bad. Here's your sixpence, Major."

He handed over the amount in coppers, lay down
on the gravel, with his head on his arm, and in a
moment was sound asleep, and snoring heavily.

"A humble retainer of mine," said the Major.
" A follower, rather than a servant. Poor, as you
see, but faithful. He does odd jobs for me, and I
keep him going. Not a gentleman, you observe."

Frank laughed silently.

172 Ready-moftey Mortiboy,

"It's a glorious thing, a good fling," said the
Major. " Though it's ten years since I had mine,
and it only lasted two years, I remember every day
of it. You remember Kitty Nelaton, of the
Adelphi.?"

" No. Never had the pleasure of her acquaint-
ance."

"A splendid woman. That, of course, was
allowed. I took her, sir, from the Duke of Brent-
wood. His Grace nearly went, mad with rage.
Ah, I think I see myself now, tooling down to
Richmond the loveliest pair of grays, I suppose,
that ever were seen. But she was so devilish
expensive. And I had a good year, too : got on
the right thing for the Derby, landed at Ascot and
Goodwood, and didn't do badly at Newmarket.
Shall I tell you the story of my misfortunes ?'

" Do," said Frank — " if it will not bore you."

" Not at all. It's a pleasure to talk to a gentle-
man ; and besides, this is a capital cigar. It's ten
years ago. Some of the other men have gone to
grief, too ; so that I'm not without companions.
We meet sometimes, and have a talk over old
times. Odd thing life is. If I could put all my
experiences in a book, sir, by gad you'd be aston-
ished. The revelations I could make about paper,

A Matter-of-fact Story, 173

for instance ; the little transactions in horse-flesh —
eh ? and other kinds of — "

" I beg your pardon," said Frank, who had
dropped off to sleep, and was awakened by his
head nearly nodding him off the bench. "You
were saying — "

" Let me begin at the beginning," said the Major^
sucking his cigar, and beginning his story with the
relish that "unfortunate" men always manifest in
relating their misadventures. " I was the second
son of a Norfolk baronet. Of course, as the second
son, I had not much to look for from the family
estate. However, I entered the army, and at
once became — I may say, deservedly — the most
popular man in the regiment. This was owing
partly, perhaps, to my personal good looks, partly
to a certain superiority of breeding which my family
was ever remarkable for. Then, I was the best
actor, the best billiard player, the best cricketer,
the smartest officer in the whole garrison. This
naturally led to certain successes which it would be
sham modesty, at this lapse of time, to ignore.
Do not you think so ?'*

" Humph — gr — umph," was Frank's reply.

He was sound asleep, and the rest of the Major's
revelations were, consequently not wanted. From

1/4 Ready-money Mortiboy,

the thrilling interest of the commencement, it may
be conjectured that no greater misfortune could
happen to the British public than Frank^s collapse.
But he was a very unlucky man at this juncture of
his fortunes.

He slept two or three hours. He was awakened
by a pressure at the chest.

He started up, and just had time to grip the
wrist of the respectable Mr. Jacob as that worthy
was abstracting his watch and chain. Frank was
strong as well as young. Jacob was neither young
nor strong. Consequently, in less time than it
takes to write this line, the watch and chain were
back in their owner's pocket, and the luckless
Jacob was despatched with many kicks and a little
strong language.

The Major was gone.

Frank rubbed his eyes, and sat down again. It
was past four, broad daylight, and the sun had
risen, as the gilded clock-tower plainly showed.

"Where's the Major ?" thought Frank. " Did I
dream } Was there a Major, or was it a night-
mare } He began to tell me a story about
somebody — Kitty something. I wonder if the
six shillings are safe. Yes — here they are. What
the deuce am I to do now ?'

A Matter-of-fact Story, 175

A lovely morning : a sweet, delicious air. Lon-
don fresh and bright, as if night had cleaned it and
swept it.

He got up, refreshed by his light sleep, and
strolled down the silent avenue. On his right lay
the sleepers upon the benches : poor bundles of
rags, mostly ; here and there, a woman with a
baby ; sometimes a girl, pale-faced and emaciated
- — ^perhaps a poor shirtmaker, starving in spite of
virtue, because virtue, though it brings its own
reward, does not always suffer that reward to take
.Ihe form of a negotiable currency ; sometimes a
poor creature with cheeks that had once been fair,
and had lately been painted — because vice, though
it sometimes brings sacks full of money with it, has
a trick of running away with all of it in surprising
and unexpected ways.

Frank stopped, and looked at one of them. She
half opened her eyes. He listened. She mur-
mured, " I sha'n'i: move on," and then went to sleep
again. A few poor remains of finery were on her ;
a few tags of ribbon ; a displaced chignon ; a bonnet
that had once been flaunting; little brodequins
that had once been neat and pretty ; a silk dress
that had once not been discoloured and bespattered
with street mud. Frank was touched with pity.

176 Ready-money Mortibqy,

He stooped over her, and spoke to her. She
awoke, started up, and smiled — a horrid, ghastly-
smile, the memory of which haunted him after-
wards.

"Why do you sleep here V he asked — a foolish
question, because there could be only one reason.

" Because IVe got no money."

" What do you do in the day ?"

"I hide. I come out at night, like the bats."^
She laughed discordantly. "Give me something,,
if you have anything."

" IVe got six shillings. There are two for
you."

" YouVe a good sort."

She pulled herself together, and got off the seat
yawning.

" You had better finish your sleep."

" I have finished. I'm too hungry to sleep any
longer. Now I shall go and buy something to eat.
I must wake up my sister first, though."

She went and shook a figure in black stuff,
without a chignon, who lay on the next bench. A
woman about thirty — pale, thin, uncomely, long-
suffering.

"Yes," said the first woman, "you see us both.
Tilly was the good one. I*m the bad one. Good

A Matter-of-fact Story. 177

or bad, it makes no difference. We've got to starve
all the same."

Frank shuddered. Is there nothing, then, in
virtue } Can nothing ward off the evils of fate ?
Is there no power in self-denial, in bitter privation,
to change remorseless circumstance, to stave off the
miseries allotted by avayKV) ?

" Good or bad," she repeated, " it's all the same.
Just as I told her ten years ago, when I was Kitty
Nelaton, and she — "

" Good heavens ! Am I dreaming V said Frank,
putting his hand to his head.

" Yes, Kitty Nelaton, of the Adelphi ; and she
was Tilly Jones, the shirtmaker. And here we are,
you see. Come, Tilly, my dear."

" Stop," said Frank. " I've got four shillings
more. Take two of them. I've got a watch and
chain that I shall pawn by and by. Don't say
there's no difference between good and bad. Don't,
for God's sake, Kitty!"

The tears stood in his eyes.

" I told you so," said the other woman, in a dull,
apathetic way. " I always told you so."

The enthusiasm of virtue had long since been
crushed out of her by dire penury ; but now that
nothing else was possible, the habit of preaching

VOL. II. 12

i;;8 Ready-money Mortiboy.

virtue remained ; and, like many preachers, who
have small faith or none in their own creeds, she
went on in the same old strain, repeating dead
words to lifeless ears.

But they took the money, and went away. Frank
noticed how they crawled like a pair of old women.
But the elder to appearance, the younger in reality
by five or six years, was the poor worn-out shirt-
maker.

" Let me get out of this place," said Frank. " I
should go mad if I came here another night."

It was in the time when the Embankment was
building, but not quite finished. Frank went down
to the grand old river, which was at high tide, and
saw — in the clear, bright air of early dawn, when
the black pall of smoke over London lifts and is
driven away, only to come back again when men
rise from their beds — the towers and spires of the
mighty city standing out against the blue sky of
the morning.

He communed with himself In that bright air,
it was impossible to feel unhappy. At the age of
five-and-twenty, it is impossible not to see hope in
everything. Besides, there was literally nothing
that he could reproach himself with. His life had
been blameless. If we are to go by sins, Frank had

A Matter-of-fact Story, 179

none ; — I speak as a layman. If we are to go by
aims and hopes, Frank's were pure and lofty ; — I
speak as a layman. If to desire only what is good
and right be in itself good and right, then was
Frank, at this moment, one of the best of God's
creatures. Perhaps I speak as a fool, but indeed I
think he was. To few is it given to be so single-
hearted and so pure. One sorrow he had, and one
hope. That his father's name should be tarnished,
was his sorrow. To wipe out the stain, and at the
same time to win his love, was his hope.

But how ?

He thought of the man with the big head, who
wanted to employ him. This was clearly not the
way to'get large sums of money, or a great name.
But yet — not yet. Two shillings in money — now
that Kitty and Tilly were provided with the means
of getting through the day — was all that he had in
his pocket. Besides this, a silver watch and a
chain, which might together fetch five pounds at a
pawnbroker's.

It struck six.

" I'm hungry," said Frank, " and I'm dirty. Both
are disagreeable things."

He left the Embankment, went up into the
Strand, and had a cup of coffee and a piece of

12 — 2

l8o Ready-money Mortiboy.

bread — giving twopence to the waiter, like a good
Samaritan. The waiter had never had so much
money presented to him, in the way of his calling,
in all his life before. But instead of showing grati-
tude, he ran away to an inner apartment, for fear it
might be a mistake.

Then he went to the old Roman bath, where he
had a plunge in the coldest water in the world,
south of the Arctic pole, and came out glowing and
strong.

It was only half-past six, so he went back to the
Embankment, and smoked a cigar, thinking what
he should do next.

"Time goes very slowly for poor people," he
reflected. " That, I suppose, is a compensation to
them, because it flies so swiftly for the rich."

CHAPTER THE TWELFTH.

AVING-STONES come to
feel hard after walking
about on them for twenty-
four hours or so, no doubt,"
Frank said to himself as he
strolled along the Embank-
ment, looking in vain for a
seat A policeman passed
him. " Now, who would be
a bobby ?" he thought. " An
awful time of it they must
have Yet I might put on
the blue. I suppose I could
procure a nomination. I
might come down to that,
and yet be no ; a gen-
tleman drives a Hansom, or he enlists as a soldier.

if ''s^'

1 82 Ready-money Mortiboy,

but nobody ever heard of a gentleman in the police
force. Officers, it is true : but even a metropolitan
magistrate has never yet complimented them on
their gentlemanlike demeanour in the box. Preju-
dices are queer things. I confess — though I
haven't many left — I have an objection to the force.
Francis Melliship, you must really aim higher than
the police force."

He pulled out his watch. It had stopped at
half-past six. The key was at Islington. He
looked up at the clock tower. It was a quarter to
nine.

" A quarter to nine. I am getting hungry again.
Remarkable thing. I do not remember being
hungry before nine a.m. since I left school. My
appetite is becoming serious and embarrassing.
' The wind/ as the old French proverb very prettily
says, though King David and Sterne generally get
the credit of it, * is tempered to the shorn lamb.'
My experience is, that his appetite does not suit
itself to his circumstances. Hang it, I must have
some breakfast, and as well now as in an hour's
time."

He walked through the Temple into Fleet-street.
In the window of a modest-looking coffee-house,
an impracticable china tea-pot, surrounded by

A Matter-of-fact Story. 183

freshly cut chops and rashers of ham, gave notice
to hungry men that breakfast was to be had
within.

Frank took a seat in a box near the door, and
ordered his meal ; ate it with the greatest relish,
and wondered if Dick Mortiboy was up, and
whether he would be surprised if his cousin failed
to keep his appointment with him.

Then he took up that wonderful chronicle, the
advertisement sheet of the Times. Order in dis-
order, if you happen to know where to look for
things. Frank did not ; so he looked at every
page but the right before his eye caught the
columns of Wanteds and Want Places. He read
the list — ^the contents of which everybody knows
perfectly well, because it never alters — with the
curiosity of one interested. He was struck, of
course, with that coincidence of people advertising
for a place in terms that exactly suit the apparent
requirements of people advertising for a person.
Everybody has noticed this peculiarity, and novel-
ists have made the most of it.

" Why don't they read this paper, apply for the
vacant places, and save their money ?" was his
reflection.

Any number of cooks and clerks were wanted

184 Ready-money Mortiboy,

by advertisers ; any number of " gentlemen," pos-
sessed of every possible qualification, advertised
for employment for time, capital, or both.

There was not in the list one advertisement
which seemed to fit his case. Stay, there was one
— a secretary was wanted for an established public
company. " A knowledge of the Fine Arts abso-
lutely requisite. Preference will be given to a
graduate of Oxford or Cambridge." Frank wrote
down the address in his pocket-book. In was an
Agency ; and Frank Melliship had neither heard^
nor read, nor learned from experience, that of all
the humbugs in a city full of them. Agencies of all
sorts are the greatest humbugs. And the very
cream of these swindles are Agencies that rob
those poor wretches who, having tried every other
method of getting employment, as a last resource
enter one of these spiders' dens. I will give aa
example of their common method of procedure,,
which is representative. I will take a Servants'
Agency to serve my purpose.

Here is a copy of an advertisement from the
Times, You may see one similarly catching any
day and every day : —

A Matter-of-fact Story. 185

GENERAL SERVANT. Is a gODd PLAIN COOK.
Has no objection to undertake washing. Fond of
children. Age 24. From the country. Clean, active, willing,
and obliging. Waits well at table. 3 J years' excellent cha-
racter. Wages ;^9.— " Mary," Mrs. y Street.

This advertisement appears in the Times, the
Telegraph, and the Standard on the same day.
The advertisements cost — say fourteen shillings
altogether.

Now, how many poor innocent ladies do you
think apply to Mrs. for that domestic trea-
sure } — poor women who have large families and
little means ; who can only afford to keep one ser-
vant ; and perhaps, ever since they were first
married, have been wanting that clean, willing
country girl who will cook the dinner, and nurse
the children, and all well for nine pounds a-year,
and have never found her. How many } I should
not like to say.

Do you think there ever was such a " Mary V

Never.

Apply to the advertiser. You may write to her,
or go and see her. If the latter, she will smile
affably, and tell you— what she will tell you in a
letter if you write to her — that it is most unfortu-
nate, because somebody else has just engaged that
particular " Mary." On payment, however, of a fee

1 86 Ready-money Mortiboy,

of half a crown, your name may be placed on the
books of the Agency, and you will, doubtless — say
in a week or two — be rewarded by having just such
another phoenix of domestic servants transferred to
your own kitchen.

Transparent traps to catch half-crowns. The sun
shines through ruses so clumsy. Very likely. But
people won't see it. A proportion of the appli-
cants — large enough to make the game at least re-
munerative— -pay their half-crowns in the certain
assurance of getting a Mary exactly like the one
who was so unfortunately ravished from their grasp.
Of course, they never get her. Then the fool-trap
is baited afresh.

Now, multiply Mrs. 's humble half-crown by

eight. That makes a sovereign. The fee is one
sovereign. Divide the number of applicants by any
numeral you think will give you the truth as the re-
sult of this sum in simple division, and you will

know how much Mr. ^ who flies at higher game,

gets by his profession of not finding places for
secretaries, clerks, ushers, and the rest, who want
employment in this great city ; — always reniember-
ing that his most frequent quarry is the broken
man who knows neither trade nor profession, but
must have a gentlemanlike occupation : men who

A Matter-of-fact Story. 187

like young Frank MelHship, are ruined ; but who,
unlike him, have no friend. Hundreds of these
men have given a sovereign out of their last two
or three r\ to the Agent, and received in re-
turn — v/-

To find these men who want work and can't get
it, who deserve well — yet, asking bread, receive
stones : here is a field for charity !

Now let us return to Frank Melliship.

I have not called him the hero of my story,
because he has done nothing heroic — because he
seems to stand in the way of his own success ; and
with that noble object he has in view, to be wasting
precious time only to earn an indifferent living.

Why does he not apply to John Heathcote ?
Why will he not be helped by his superlatively rich
cousin, Dick Mortiboy ?

I will tell you why, for I want to paint him as he
was. It was a point of pride : determination to
show his independence of all those who, as he
thought, ought to have saved his father from ruin,
madness, and death.

" I will do without them. The world is wide.
Energy overcomes all difficulties. Labor omnia
vincit.'*

1 88 Ready-money Mortiboy.

Boys' copybook rubbish. It does not. Res
omnia vincit. It is capital that conquers all things,
from a kingdom up to a woman.

"To London and to Art." He had come to
town something of an enthusiast. Where Art left
him, we have seen. Was this the fault of Art.^
No.

He wanted long education and years of patient
toil to paint even moderately well. This he did
not know, and nobody but Kate had ever told
him so.

Let us do him justice. He never thought him-
self a genius ; but he believed in his energy, in his
determination to succeed, and thought some way
would be found by himself He did not want to
be shown the way, or to be helped by any friend of
his prosperous days. His desire to be independent,
and work his own way, was a sort of vanity ; but it
is not uncommon. I know a rich man who would
rather earn a single guinea than that the goddess
of Good Luck should shower a hundred into his
pocket from the clouds. This was Frank's state of
mind too.

He had made an entry of the address of the
Agency in his pocket-book, and called the waiter

A Matter-of-fact Story. 189

to him ; when the thought flashed across his mind
that he had forgotten, when he ordered his break-
fast, the emptiness of his pockets. He explained
his predicament to the waiter, and offered to leave
his watch with the proprietor. It was, he said, the
only thing of value he had about him, except the
guard.

The man saw he was a gentleman, and begged
him not to trouble about the matter, but pay him
any day when he was passing.

" It is the easiest thing in the world," thought
Frank, " for a man who always has had money in
his pocket, to walk into a shop, and quite forget he
has none."

He came to a pawnbroker's, and he thought he
had better pawn his watch and chain at once. He
must have some money.

There was a shop window full of plate and
jewellery : in a side street was an open door-way,
revealing a row of little doors. Frank guessed what
these cabinets were, but he was some few minutes
before he could make up his mind to go in. He
looked at the costly things in the window — ^he
walked past the doorway ; at last, looking cauti-
ously up the street and down the street, as if he
were about to commit a burglary, and was afraid

JOl

IQO Ready-money Mortiboy,

of the policeman who might be round the corner,
he plunged into one of the little boxes, falling over
an old woman who was haggling with the shopman
for sixpence more than she had got last time on a
pair of sheets.

Frank flushed in his confusion, apologized, and
tried the next cabinet. This was empty ; and
here, trying to look as if he had often done it be-
fore, he put down his watch and chain on the
counter with the grace of a rou^, and waited his
turn.

The man examined his watch, asked if it was in
going order, weighed his chain, and smiled as he
leered at him through his spectacles.

Frank, despite his efforts, looked so completely
innocent.

" How much ?"

Frank hesitated before he answered.

" How much will you lend me ?"

" Tell me how much you want ?"

" Well, a fiver."

"All right. These aint been in before, young
gentleman.*'

" How do you know T asked Frank, blushing,
and very much ashamed of the transaction he was
engaged in.

A Matter-of-fact Story, 191

" WeVe got a private mark in the trade we put
on everything that comes in," said the man ; and
Frank believed him.

He began to write out the ticket.

" What name ?"

" Must I give it ?"

" Not unless you like. Any name '11 do. Mr.
Smith, of Piccadilly, it generally is. Will that

do r

Frank nodded.

" Got fourpence } For the ticket, you know."

The poor boy blushed scarlet.

" All right, my lad : there you are. Four " —
he dashed down the sovereigns — " nineteen, eight."

Frank put the money and the ticket in his pocket,
and went back to pay for his breakfast.

Then he made his way to the Agency.

The proprietor had not come, but his clerk told
Frank he had a very good list of appointments
"suitable for any gentleman to take."

Frank was very glad to hear this, and asked for
some particulars about the secretaryship adver-
tised.

" Our fee for entering a name is a sovereign —
over a hundred and fifty a-year — half a sovereign
under it. This secretaryship is three hundred.

192 Ready-money Mortiboy.

Fine Arts Company (Limited). The governor's in
it, and it'll soon be got up."

To the credit of Frank Melliship's common sense,
I record the fact that he did not pay the sovereign,
but asked the fellow what they meant by their ad-
vertisement. He had a copy of it in his book, and
he read it out.

The clerk was evidently of an irritable tempera-
ment. Perhaps they often had a row in the office.
He was rude to Frank. He turned on his heel, and
left the counter, with the words —

'*Fraps you know gentlemen as hasn't got a
sovereign. Coming here, wasting our time and
kicking up a row !"

The being was too contemptible to thrash, but
his remark opened Frank's eyes to the position of
things. That such a little cad dared insult him !

He turned into a bye-street, and looked for a
quiet corner where he could sit down and curse fate.
There was none. So he cursed fate as he walked
along.

After walking for half an hour or so, he began to
pull himself together.

"Swearing will not help, at any rate. Some-
thing must be done, and that soon. I believe I am
getting hungry again. What a misfortune to have

A Matter-of-fact Story. 193

such a twist. Poverty may be invigorating, but it's
unpleasant. I don't think I'm strong enough to
take the medicine. As for taking money from
Dick, that, of course, is out of the question."

He was walking along a West-end street, and
saw at a door a brass plate, with " University and
Scholastic Agency*' upon it.

" Let us try the schools. Perhaps they won't
ask for a sovereign," he said, and went in.

They did not. The agent, a man of extremely
affable and polished manners, invited Frank to sit
down, and asked him what he could do.

Tell me candidly. I've got plenty of places."
I've taken a Poll degree at Cambridge. I know
very little Latin or Greek, and no mathematics."

" Bad," said the agent. " Any French .?"

'* Oh, French — of course. And — and I can paint
and draw."

" A good cricketer } Anything of an oar .?"

"Yes — rowed five in the first college boat.
Played in the college eleven."

" My dear sir, a public school will be delighted
to have you. They don't care, you see, about their
junior masters being great scholars, because they
have found out that any one can teach the boys
their Delectus. But they do want athletics.

VOL. II. 13

((

ti

194 Ready-money Mortiboy,

You'd be worth your weight in gold to a head
master. Sit down at that table, and put down all
you can do. First-class Poll, I think you said."
" No — last. I just scraped through."
" Well, never mind. Sit down and write."
"So" — he read over Frank's modest list of
accomplishments — " I will find — it is now July the
1 0th — ^before the vacations are over, a really good
opening for you."

" But IVe had no experience in teaching."
" What does that matter } Look at your ex-
perience in the field and on the river. Give me
your address."

" I must find one first. I am — I am looking for
lodgings ; but I will send it you as soon as pos-
sible."

He came out of the office with a lightened heart.
Something would be got : something unpleasant,
naturally — because the order of things allots all
unpleasant things to poor men — but still, the means
of life. In a few minutes he was perfectly happy
in his new prospects — just as a drowning man is
happy to find a plank even if he is in mid-ocean,
with no ship in sight.

Then, a sudden reflection dashed his pleasure.
He was to have his new post when the summer

A Matter-of-fact Story, 195

vacation was over. How was he to live till then ?
If on his wardrobe, there would be no possibility of
presenting a respectable exterior; and his watch
and chain would not go very far.

He put his hand into his empty pocket, and
pulled out the card which he had taken from the
Jewish gentleman the night before.

" By Jove ! it's Bighead's card. TU go and see
him."

It bore the name of Mr. Emmanuel Leweson, and
an address in Brunswick-square.

Thither Frank bent his steps, tired and fagged
with the long walking about he had had. A cab, of
course, was not to be thought of

He sent in his card — Mr. Leweson was at home —
and in a few minutes he found himself again in the
presence of his acquaintance of the evening before.

Mr. Leweson looked more big-headed than ever,
sitting over a late breakfast — it was half-past
twelve — in a light dressing-gown. He had been
breakfasting luxuriously. The table was covered
with fruit and flowers. He was drinking Rhine
wine from a long flask.

"Come in, Mr. Melliship — since that is your
name. I am glad to see you — very glad. Take a
glass of wine, and sit down. And now," he said,

13—2

196 Ready-money Mortiboy,

finishing his breakfast, and lighting a cigar, " let us
talk business. Tell me as much as you like about
yourself, Mr. Melliship. The more the better."

Frank told him as much as he thought advisable.

" So — no money ; expensive tastes ; habits of a
gentleman ; no special knowledge ; art and music.
Now, Mr. Melliship, do you know what I am V

" No ; something theatrical, I should say."

"That is because I wear a velvet coat, and
breakfast off fruit and Rhine wine, I suppose ?
No. You are not far wrong, however. I am a
musical composer by nature ; the own^r and
manager of a London music hall by will of a
malignant fate. Yes, young man — in me you see
the manager of the North London Palace of
Amusements."

He waved his hand as he spoke, as if deprecating
the other s contempt.

" I know, I know. They sing, * Rollicking Rams*
and * Champagne Charlie' — not a bad air, that last
— and we are altogether a degraded and d^rading
place. But we must pay, dear sir, we must pay.
I do more than the rest of them, because I always
try to get something good. For instance, IVe got
you."

"I don't know that you have," said Frank,

A Matter-of-fact Story. 197

laughing. The big-headed man amused him tre-
mendously.

"You will come and sing three songs every
evening — allowing yourself to be encored for one
only, because time is precious. You will thus gain
confidence, as well as three guineas a-week. I
intend to push you, and we shall have you on the
boards of the Royal Italian before many years.
Then you will remember with gratitude that I
brought you out."

" Do I understand you to offer me — "

" Do you want pen, ink and paper ? Have I not
said it } Ask the people at the music hall if Lewe-
son*s word is not as good as any other man's
bond. Will you accept T

"Don't ask me to sing under my own name.*'

" Sing in any name you like — only sing for me."

" Very well, then."

Mr. Leweson held out his hand, and shook
Frank's by way of ratifying the bargain.

" And now come with me," he said, " and we will
pay a visit to the Palace. A poor place, after all ;
but the people go there — the idiotic, stupid people.
Would you believe that I brought out the music of
my opera there, and they hissed it } Then I
engaged the Inexpressible Jones, placarded all

198 Rcady-inoney Mortiboy.

London, gave . them * Rollicking Rams' and the
rest of it, and the people all came back again.
Dolts, asses, idiots, loonatics !"

He banged his head with his fist at every epithet,,
and then put on his hat — an enormous brigand's
hat — with a scowl of revenge and hatred. Then he
burst out laughing, and led the way out.

They took a Hansom from the stand.

"How I wish you could do trapeze business,"
said Mr. Leweson. " I suppose you can't, by any
chance .?"

" No— I'm afraid not."

" You could act so well with Giulia. The poor
girl has only got her father and little Joe to fall
back on. It would tell immensely if we could put
you in. The talented Silvani family. Signor
Pietro Silvani, Signor Francesco, and the Divine
Giulia. A brilliant idea just occurred to me — a
combination of three. The Signor at the bottom,
with rings instead of a bar ; you on his shoulders ;
Giulia on yours. Giulia is left at the first trapeze ;
you at the second ; the undaunted head of the
family goes on to the last. Bless you, Giulia
wouldn't be afraid ! She's afraid of nothing, that
girl. But there, if you can't do it, you can't, of
course. After all, it might spoil your career as a
tenor. Don't let us think of it. Where do you live i*"^

A Matter-of-fact Story, 199

Frank turned red.

" Fm looking for lodgings now."

" Oh ! Well, then, the best thing I can do is to
send you to Mrs.Skimp's. She's cheap, and tolerably
good. Here we are, sir, at the Palace, where every
evening the British public may receive, at the
ridiculous price of one shilling, the highest form of
amusement compatible with their state of civiliza-
tion. Here's the stage door. That is your door.
I am busy to-day, and cannot give you any more
time. Take my card, and show it to Mrs. Skimp.
That will do for an introduction ; and for the
present, at least, you can stay there. And come
round here to-morrow at one. Good-bye. Take
care of your throat."

CHAPTER THE THIRTEENTH.

■FTER their dinner together at Dick
Mortiboy's hotel, before he bade his
cousin good-night, Frank promised to
breakfast with him the next day.
The morning came. Breakfast was on the table,
Dick was waiting. ; but no Frank arrived. So as
young Ready-money — as the Market Basing people
b^an to call him — never in his life had stood on
much ceremony of any kind, he ate a very sub-
stantial breakfast without his guest ; felt a little
vexed that the cutlets were cold : wondered where
Frank was, and why he did not come ; and, finally,
strolled into the smoking-room, and lighted his
cigar.

A Matter-of-fact Story. 201

He had scarcely drawn a dozen whiffs of smoke,
when the waiter brought up a card on a silver
tray.

" By Jove ! here he is ; but breakfast's done
with." And without looking at the card, he said,
*' Show the gentleman up, and order some more
breakfast."

But the card was not Frank's. It bore the name
of Alcide Lafleur.

Let me say a word about Dick Mortiboy's
partner.

All this time, what has Alcide Lafleur been
doing } What of the System, the infallible method
of breaking banks, to follow up which was the
primary object of the partners* return to the old
country } Dick, not unmindful of his pledge, very
shortly after his accession to fortune, made over to
Lafleur the five thousand he had promised him.
He did not consider himself so bound by the terms
of that old oath of his, which we have recorded, as
to make an immediate division of his property into
two halves, and to give Lafleur one ; but he did
consider himself bound, in a general way, to abide
by him till their partnership was dissolved by

202 Ready^tnoney Mortiboy,

mutual consent. Meantime, Lafleur seemed in no
hurry to .test his System : he stayed in London,
drawing on Dick occasionally for small sums, and
keeping the five thousand intact for the Hombourg
expedition. Certain small dabblings he made at
ecart6, hazard, loo, and such games of chance as
were to be found in London circles, just to keep his
hand in ; but his main business was to pore over
his calculations, day after day, in order to reduce
his method to a mathematical certainty. Lafleur, a
cool, clear-headed man, studied, as soon as he found
it likely to help him, the Science of Probabilities.
It helped him to the extent of furnishing him with
an inexhaustible supply of figures and calculations ;
and it strengthened, so far as he could see, the
chances of the System he had perfected.

His System was to him what his model is to an
inventor. It had grown up with years of steady
play and unsteady fortunes. The idea of it came
into his head when Dick and he were engaged in
blockade running, and used to while away their
leisure hours in a little game on the after-deck,
while the crew were having their little games in the
forecastle. It took root and grew slowly, taking
form as it grew, till, to the inventor's eyes, it seemed

^

A Matter-of-fact Story. 203

absolutely perfect and consistent. No run of luck^
he thought, would stand against it. With a capital
of ;^ 5,000, so as to meet the very worst contingen-
cies, it was so certain to win, that he could defy
fortune. He had made one or two little ventures
with it in America, before they came over, with
perfect success ; and then, having that kind of love
for it which makes a man shrink from using his
invention till the day of experiment comes, he post-
poned considerable operations till he could use it at
the Hombourg tables. He was like an aeronaut
with a new machine. He looked at it, examined it,
admired it, ornamented it, boasted of it ; but put
off the day of its trial, which would be either his
death or his glory. Dick provided him with money
for his personal expenditure, so that the five thou-
sand remained intact. For himself, Lafleur wanted
comparatively little. He was not a man of expen-
sive tastes. He drank, but apparently without
great enjoyment, and never so as to produce any
effect on his head. He smoked, but in great
moderation, and only light cigarettes. He loved
to dress well — but this was necessary for a gentle-
man in his line of life. And he liked to have the
reputation of doing certain things well — with which
object, he might have been seen practising with a

204 Ready-mofiey Mortiboy,

pistol in a gallery, or fencing with a professional :
this also with a view to certain contingencies.

He was so perfectly confident of his System — so
thoroughly reliant on its power of breaking any
bank ever started, however rich — that he did not,
at this time, r^ard his old partner's altered position
with either envy or distrust. Dick had kept his
word by him honestly, as he always did — Dick's
word being quite as good as any other man's oath.
The money which he wanted for the System, on
the possession of which he based all his calculations,
was in his hands. So far, all was well. With this
capital, he asked no more. Lafleur, at this time,
was no vulgar and greedy adventurer, eager to get
money anyhow. From this he was saved by belief
in his System. All he wanted was the means of
applying it. To get the means he was, of course,
prepared — as we have already seen — ^to do anything,
everything. Having the means, he desired only to
bring his calculations to practical uses, and, after
fleecing the bankers in a perfectly legitimate way,
to settle down somewhere or other — say in Paris.
He had not the delight in roving and wild scenes
that his partner had. No coward, he shrank from
that kind of life where personal conflicts are common.
This dislike to rough-and-tumble fights— common

A Matter-of-fact Story, 205

enough among Frenchmen, was atoned for by his per-
fect readiness to fight with pistols or sword. Dick was
ready, on the other hand, with either fist or weapon.
The partnership between them had been at all times
true, but at no time cordial — at least, on Lafleur's
part. He admired the man who feared nothing and
braved everything. He respected his pluck, his
determination, his wilfulness, the way in which he
forced his own way on people. What he disliked
was a certain brutalite in his partner — a coarseness,
he thought, of fibre — a want of delicacy in taste.
He liked to dress carefully. Dick dressed anyhow
— with a certain splendour when in funds. Lafleur
liked to live fastidiously. Dick cared little what he
ate and drank, provided the meat was in plenty,
and the liquor strong, and in plenty too. A great
beefsteak, and a pot of foaming stout — these repre-
sented to Lafleur his partner s tastes, to which he
was himself so immensely superior. Dick, on the
other hand, could not but feel some pity — a little
mingled with contempt — for a man so slightly
built, so singularly useless in a row. At the same
time, he admired his dexterity at all games of
chance, and the calm way in which he met the
strokes of fortune.

A well-matched pair, so far as each supple-

2o6 Ready-money Mortiboy,

mented certain deficiencies in the other : an ill-
matched pair, because they had no kind of sym-
pathy with each other : a partnership of a brace of
penniless adventurers, determined to live on the
world as best they might : a society which held
together by the bonds of habit, of long use, and
the fact that each entirely trusted in the honesty of
his companion — Dick because he was loyal, Lafleur
because he was sagacious.

But now there was a feeling growing up in both
men's minds that the partnership was to come to
an end, and each be free to go his own way. How
the separation was to take place, which of the two
was to introduce the subject, neither knew. Dick,
for his part — resolved Lafleur should no longer be
associated with him in the new life he was to lead
— was prepared to make almost any sacrifice to
break off the connection. Lafleur, on the other
hand, was equally ready to go, on no conditions
whatever. He had the System, and the capital to
start with.

They met, therefore, when Dick went up to
town, on a new footing. Men have been divided
into rooks and pigeons — borrowers and lenders —
sharks, and prey for sharks. But there is a third
and a very important class : the class of those who

A Matter-of-fact Story. 207

defend their own. As strong as the beasts and
birds of prey, they are braver, because they are
backed up by law and public opinion. It was to
this class that Dick Mortiboy belonged now : La-
fleur still to the camp which he had deserted. It
is true that Dick half regretted the old days of
excitement and peril, when they talked only to
contrive new dodges, and went about to execute
them. What he really missed, and would have re-
called, was the wild freedom of the old life, not its
antagonism to society. Conventionality, not man-
kind, was his enemy. This he hated, and it
weighed upon him like a thick blanket on a sum-
mer's night.

Lafleur came into the room. Dick held out his

hand.

His partner sat down. With the cold smile that

always played about his pale face, he asked —
" When are we going to Hombourg V
" I don't know. I don't think I shall go at all."
"You were half engaged to go with me," said

Lafleur, reproachfully. ** But, of course, if you

cannot come — Is your cousin with you still .?"
" No. I am waiting for him. You have been

trying the System again V

2o8 Ready-money Mortibqy.

" Dick, it is perfect." His face had a pallid en-
thusiasm when he spoke of his invention. "I
have studied it so long that I know every com-
bination the chances can take. I must win. I
cannot help it. I am almost sorry I had so much
money from you, because I really shall not want it
all. My capital is too big."

" Still — still — You know, luck may go so as no
mortal capital ever held can stand against it. Re-
member that night when we were cleaned out at
St. Louis."

" It may — of course it may. But it never does*
At whist, you may hold thirteen trumps, if you are
dealing. But who ever does.^ No man in his
senses ever contemplates a hand like that. The
night at St. Louis was a bad one, I admit. It was
before my System was completed, though, or else
we should — No — no, we had no capital then.
But IVe counted every reasonable combination,
Dick, everything I ever saw happen — and you'll
admit that IVe seen a good deal — I've played
countless games on paper, and IVe always won.
Come over with me, and see me break the banks,
one after the other. By heaven, Dick, I shall be
far richer than you !"

" I should like to go. But, no— I think I had

A Matter-of-fact Story, 209

better not leave my own place just now. But
there, you don't understand the position of things."

" I understand," said Lafleur, " that the position
of Mr. Dick Mortiboy is considerably altered for
the better. I suppose — But, Dick, really I did not
think you would have been so quick in throwing
over old friends."

" I have thrown over no old friends. Did I not
honestly redeem my word, and hand you the
capital you asked for T

" You did. That is not quite all, though. Did
we not discuss the System all the way across the
Atlantic ? Were you not as keen as I about it }
Who but you thought of coming over to England }
Why did we come ? To get out of your father
this very sum — not to hand over to me, Dick, but
to enable us to go away together, and break the
banks in our old partnership. And now, when all
is gained, you care nothing about it. Is it what I
expected from you, Dick } I counted on your
seeing my victories as much as on making them."

This was true. He wanted Dick's admiration
and praise. He wanted to feel a man's envy.

"Because, you see," answered his partner, "a
good deal more is gained than we bargained for.
I no longer care to gamble. What does it mean if

VOL. II. 14

2IO Ready-money Mortiboy,

you care nothing about winning or losing ? Upon
my word, Lafleur, I would almost as soon, if it
were not for the habit of the thing, dance a waltz,
without any music as play at cards without caring
to win. Life when youVe rich is quite a different
sort of thing to what we experienced in the old
days. It's slower, to begin with. You find that
everybody is your friend, in the second place.
Then you discover that, instead of looking about
to do good to yourself, you've got to fuss and
worry about doing good to other people."

"Fancy Dick Mortiboy doing good to any-
body !"

" Queer, isn't it 1 But true. They tell me I'm
doing good, so I suppose I am. Then, after all,,
you can't eat and drink more than a certain
amount. You don't want to have more than a
dogcart and a riding-horse. You can't be always
giving dinners and things. What are you to do
with your money t You've always got the mis-
sionaries left, to be sure ; but you're an ass if you
give them anything."

" By Jove — I should think so, indeed !" said
Lafleur.

"Then what are you to do with yourself and
your money t I make a few bets, but I don't care

A Matter-of-fact Story, 211

much about it. I play a game of billiards, but it
doesn't matter whether I win or lose. Life's lost
its excitements, Lafleur. The old days are gone."

"In England, you can always go on the turf.
There is plenty of money to be lost there."

" I never cared much about horse-races, unless I
was riding in them myself. I daresay I shall go
on the turf, though, for a little excitement. I don't
know what I shall do, Lafleur. When life becomes
insupportable, I shall go across the water again, I
think, and stay till I am tired of that, and want a
change. But as for cards — why, what excitement
is equal to that of playing for your very dinner, as
we have done before now } How can one get up
any pleasure in a game when it does not really
signify how it ends T'

" You always think of the end. But think of the
play, Dick. Think of working out your own plan^
and going down with it, and fleecing everybody —
eh } Is there no excitement there Y'

" There would be if I wanted the money. Not
now. I never cared to win from those who couldn't
afford to lose, Lafleur."

" I know. You were always soft-hearted, Dick.
Now, if a man plays with me, I play to win. It is
his look-out whether he can aff'ord to pay or not. I

14 — 2

212 Ready-money Mortiboy,

play to win. IVe got no more feeling, Dick, over
cards than the green table itself."

The candour of this admission of Lafleur's was
equalled by its truth.

Dick sighed, and leaned his head upon his
hand.

" By Jove, they were good times, some of them.
g Do you remember that very day, after the St. Louis
cleaning out, how we woke up in the morning with-
out a cent between us V

Lafleur nodded. Some reminiscences of Dick's
were unpleasant. But he seemed warming back to
^i^ old tone, and Lafleur wanted to take him over
to Hombourg with him.

" You went to the billiard-rooms. I went to the
Monty Saloon. And when we met again in the
evening we had got six hundred dollars. That was
the day when I fought the Peruvian. It was a near
thing, ril never fight a duel blindfolded again. I
thought I heard his steps, and I let fly. He had it
in the right arm — broke the bone. Then he fired
with the left hand — being a blood-thirsty rascal —
and hit Caesar, the black waiter, in the calf I
remember how we laughed. Then we went on to
Cairo. Upon my word, Lafleur, when I think of
those days, my blood boils. All fair play, too.

A Matter-of-fact Story, 213

Every man trying to cheat his neighbour. Good,
honest gambling, with a bowie knife ready at your
neck."

" All fair play," echoed Lafleur, with the faintest
smile on his lips.

" It was better than the blockade running, after
all ; though there were some very pretty days in
that. It was better than — I say, after all, don't
you think the best moment of our lives was when
we stood on board the little schooner, dripping wet,
after our swim from the reef of Palmiste ?"

At another time, Lafleur would have resented this
recollection of an extremely disagreeable episode in
his life. Now he laughed.

" Yes," he said, " perhaps it was a moment of
relief, after a mauvais quart d'heure. It was then
that we swore our partnership."

" It was," said Dick. WeVe kept to our terms
ever since. Lafleur, the time has come for our
separation. I can no longer lead the old life. All
that is done with. We are adventurers no more.
I have my fortune ; you possess your capital and —
your System."

" I shall soon be as rich as you with it," said
Lafleur, confidently.

" We are partners no longer, then } It is dis-

214 Ready-money Mortiboy,

solved, Lafleur. I've got the best of it ; but don't
say Dick Mortiboy ever turned his back upon a
friend. If you have not money enough, let me
know. Take more."

" I have plenty. I cannot fail. It is impossible.
But I want you to come to Hombourg with me.
See me succeed, Dick — see me triumph with my
System. That is all I ask."

" I will see," said Dick. " I will not promise to
go with you. Twelve years, Lafleur, we have fought
our battles side by side. I remember the words of
my oath to you as well as if I spoke them yester-
day : — *If I can help you, I will help you. If I
have any luck, you shall have half. If I ever have
any money, you shall have half Was it not so }
Yet you have only had five thousand pounds of all
my money. It is because my father's money is not
mine, really, I only hold it. I have it for certain
purposes — I hardly know what yet. I could not
keep my word in its literal sense."

" Dick, I don't ask you," said Lafleur. " I have
told you I am satisfied."

" Then you givQ me back my word V said Dick.

" I solemnly give it back, Dick," was the reply.

He held out his hand, which Dick grasped. He
heaved a great sigh. Their partnership was dis-

A Matter-of-fact Story, 2 1 S

solved. His oath had been heavy upon him, for
Dick*s word was sacred — the only sacred thing he
knew. The vast fortune into which he had so un-
expectedly fallen, with all its duties and responsi-
bilities, which Dick was already beginning to
realize, was so complicated an affair, that, in the
most perfect honesty, he could not literally fulfil his
promise. He did the next best thing. He gave
Lafleur all he asked for. He was prepared to give
him as much again — three times as much, if neces-
rary. But he was glad to get back his word —
returned to him like a paid cheque, or a duly
honoured bill.

It is not clear that Dick is progressing in civiliza-
tion "i He has recognized the voice of public
opinion. He has remarked that the force of cir-
cumstances compels him, whether he will or no, to
lead an outwardly decorous life. He has recog-
nized, dimly as yet, that this vast property cannot
be made ducks and drakes of, flung away, spent
recklessly, as he fondly promised himself when he
undeceived his father. He sees that it is like the
root-work of some great trees, spreading out
branches in all directions, small and great branches :
to tear up and destroy them would be to change the

2l6

Ready-money Mortiboy,

fortunes of thousands, to ruin, to revolutionize, to-
devastate.

Things must be as they are. He is now free : he
has got back his word, and is clear of Lafleur.

This is a great gain.

There is still, however, one link which holds him
with the pctst.

It is Polly !

CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH.

IRS. SKIMP'S. Her establishment is in
Granville-square, Islington — one of those
pleasant places where fashion and aris-
tocracy have never penetrated to corrupt
the simplicity of the natives. Mrs. Skimp's is two
houses converted into one by knocking a door
through the partition wall on each floor. Every-
body in the neighbourhood knows it, for Mrs.
Skimp has been there a good many years. Frank
asked the way to Granville-square at a baker's
shop : it happened to be Mrs. Skimp*s baker.

" This little b'y's just going there, sir," the woman
behind the counter said, very civilly. " He will
show you the way. What number might you want>

sir I*

?"

2i8 Ready-money Mortiboy,

" Thirty-three."

•* Thirty-three and thirty-four. Mrs. Skimp's,
sir," said the woman, her face brightening up at
the prospect of three extra loaves a-week being
wanted. " That's the house the little b y's going to."

Frank followed the boy with his load of bread.

In three minutes they were in the square. It was
an oblong really, and not so wide as Regent's
Quadrant ; and it had a badly kept strip of garden
in the middle. The houses were plastered over ;
and, with two or three exceptions, wanted a coat of
paint as badly as houses could. Mrs. Skimp's was
an exception. It was a house of three storeys, and
attics in the roof. Over the doors were lamps
slightly projecting from the pane of glass that lets
light into the hall ; and on these, in huge gilt
figures, 33 and 34 blazed in the sun. They were
repeated again on the door.

. The boy pulled the area bell, and pointed to the
knocker and then to Frank, when a dirty servant
came out at the basement door to take in the
bread.

Frank^s knock remained a minute unanswered ;
but he saw the lace curtains of the window move,
and caught sight of a face — apparently a young
lady^s — peeping at him over the blind.

^

A Matter-of-fact Story, 219

Then the servant came and showed him into a
room, evidently the dining-room.

Here he had to wait while Mrs. Skimp and her
daughter " put themselves to rights."

Presently they came in together. Mrs. Skimp
was tall, and of rather pleasing appearance. Her
daughter was short and stout, and decidedly un-
interesting.

" She takes after my lamented husband, the late
Mr. Skimp," her mother often said. " She is quite
unlike my family."

They both bowed very cordially to Frank. He
bowed in return.

" I desire to—to— "

" Board and reside with a private family of good
position. I quite understand, sir. Our circle is
small and select. Terms from twenty-two and six,
according to the room. Was it the Telegraph or the
TimeSy sir T asked this voluble personage.

" Neither, madam," said Frank. " Mr. Leweson
recommended me to see you on the subject."

" Very kind, indeed, of Mr. Leweson. We know
him quite well, my dear — do we not } A very
agreeable gentleman, and quite the artiste. Such
ears !"

Frank looked at her in surprise. He thought, at

220 Ready-money Mortiboy,

first, she alluded to the size of them, which was
quite a natural, if not a polite thing, to say ; but
no, it was a tribute to his musical genius.

Mrs. Skimp, as the reader has already discovered,
kept a cheap boarding-house. Like all of her pro-
fession, she persisted in calling it " a private family
and a select circle."

She read Frank's name on Mr. Leweson's card,
and showed him the bed-rooms then at her disposal,
expatiating in glowing terms on the advantages of
living in such a neighbourhood as Granville-square
— and particularly with such a family as Mrs.
Skimp's.

" We have the key of the square, for the use of
the boarders, sir," she said.

Frank could not help contrasting, in his owrk
mind, the key of the square offered by Mrs. Skimp,,
with the key of the street so lately in his pos-
session.

There certainly is some difference between the
two.

His interview with Mrs. Skimp was short and
satisfactory. Anybody who came with Mr. Lewe-
son*s recommendation was received by her with
great pleasure. She was about forty-five years of
age, a widow with one daughter, Clara. She was

A Matter-of-fact Story, 221

born to become fat and comfortable ; but nature's
intentions were so far frustrated by the hard condi-
tions of life that, while becoming fat, she by no
means looked comfortable, having an air of anxiety
which came from an external effort to bring her bills
within the compass of her income. She was short-
winded, because the stairs, up and down which she
rau all day long, had made her so. She held her
hand upon her heart, not because she suffered from
any palpitation, but from a habit she had con-
tracted after her husband's death. It indicated
resignation and sorrow. Her hair was already
streaked with grey. Her eyes were sharp ; but her
mouth was soft. That meant that she would have
been kind-hearted, had it not been her lot to con-
tend with people who seemed all bent upon cheating
her.

She kept a cheap boarding-house. It was a
place where you received your dinner, breakfast,
and bed-room for the modest sum of twenty-five
shillings a-week — with the usual extras, Mrs. Skimp
would say, explaining that the gentlemen paid for
their own liquor, of which she always kept the
very best that could be got for money. They also
paid extra for washing. She took Frank over the
liouse.

222 Ready-money Mortiboy,

" This," she said, " is the dining-room."

It was a room with two pieces of furniture in it,
a table and a sideboard. The latter, a veneered
piece of workmanship, in an advanced state of
decay, was covered with tumblers, glasses, and
bottles. Each bottle had a card tied round it, with
somebody's name on it. Round the red earthen-
ware water-bottle was tied a huge placard, on
which was written, in characters an inch long, " Mr.
Eddrup." Mrs. Skimp took it off with an air of
annoyance, and tore it up. A dozen chairs were
ranged round the walls of the apartment. There
was very little besides : no pictures ; dirty muslin
curtains ; no carpet. It was the front room, and
looked out into the square, where half a dozen
brown trees were making a miserable pretence of
summer, and the children were tumbling over each
other on the pavement outside the rails.

"Yes, sir,'* said Mrs. Skimp, " it is a privilege of
my boarders to go into the garden, if they like, and
smoke their pipes there. And very beautiful it is,
on a fine evening, when the flowers are out, I da
assure you. Now, let me show you the billiard-
room, sir."

At the back of the dining-room was a billiard
table. Old it was, certainly ; the baize torn and

A Matter-of-fact Story, 223

patched, and torn again ; the cushions dull and
lumpy ; the balls untrue from their long battering ;
the cues mostly without their tops; — but still a
billiard table : undeniably, a billiard table.

" It is an extra, of course," said Mrs. Skimp,
with pride. " We charge a shilling a-week for the
privilege of coming into this room. Some of the
gentlemen" — this with a deprecatory simper —
" spend their Sunday mornings here instead of at
church. But perhaps, sir, you Ve been better
brought up."

She led the way to the drawing-room, orna-
mented with a round table in the middle, curtains,
and two or three battered easy-chairs. In them
were seated two men, smoking pipes. They looked
up as Frank came in, but did not offer to remove
their pipes from their mouths.

" This is the drawing-room, where the boarders
sit after dinner, and play cards if they like, or
amuse themselves," she whispered. " That is
Cap'en Bowker, him with the red beard ; and the
other is Cap'en Hamilton, him with the moustache
— both boarders, sir."

Frank gave half a look at them, and followed
his guide to the bed-room. He got a small room
— two of them had been made out of a big room

224 Ready-money Mortiboy,

by putting up a partition, and taking half the
window — arranged to bring his portmanteau round
at once, and went away.

"We dine at half-past five, Mr. Melliship —
punctual. I do hope you won't keep us waiting,
because the gentlemen use such dreadful language
if the meat is overdone."

" I'll be punctual, Mrs. Skimp," said Frank, as he
trudged off to his old lodgings, and brought away
his luggage.

Then he strolled about the delightful neighbour-
hood of Islington — new to him — making acquaint-
ance with the most remarkable monuments of the
place ; and then he found it was five o'clock, and
he turned homewards to be in time for dinner.

" Not expected to dress at Skjmp's, I suppose,"
he said.

The bell rang as he opened the dining-room
door. The room was filled by about a dozen men
of all ages. They greeted Frank with the stare of
rude inquiry by which men of a certain class wel-
come a new comer.

" Swell down on his luck," murmured Captain
Hamilton to the lad — a King's College medical
student — who stood by him, leaning half out of
window.

A Matter-of-fact Story, 225

At the moment, a red-cheeked and bare-armed
servant-maid brought in the dinner. She was fol-
lowed by Mrs. Skimp, who had brushed her hair,
and put on a clean cap for dinner, and now assumed
the head of the table, rapping with the handle of
her carving knife to summon her boarders.

They took their seats.

" You must take the bottom seat, Mr. Melliship,"
said the hostess, gracefully pointing with a fork.
"No, not the end— that's Mr. Eddrup's. That's
right: next to Cap*en Bowker. Jane, take the
cover off."

Just then there glided into the room an old gen-
tleman, dressed in black coat and gray trousers.
He took his place at the end of the table. No-
body took the least notice of him — except Captain
Bowker, who asked him, in a whisper, if he was
better. Mr. Eddrup shook his head, and poured
out a glass of water. This was a sort of signal ;
for there is no better opportunity of displaying wit
than when you are waiting to be served, and no
safer a method than that of chaffing an old man.

The medical student began. How delightful is
the flow of spirits, unchecked by the ordinary
restrictions of politeness, which distinguishes a
certain class of medical students !

VOL. II. I s

226 Ready-money Mortiboy,

He burst into a horse laugh, and pointed at Mr.
Eddrup.

" Ha, ha ! — Ho, ho ! There he goes again.
Must cool his coppers."

" Where did you get tight last night, Mr,
Eddrup?" cried Captain Hamilton, whom Frank
set down at once as a leg of the most unmitigated
description. He was one of those shady, suburban-
race men who hang about at small meetings, living
heaven knows how. At present, he was three or
four weeks in debt at Skimp*s, and was meditating
flight, with the partial sacrifice of his wardrobe.

*' I think I saw him at the Alhambra about
eleven," said another, a City clerk. " He was
winking at the ballet girls."

" Oh, Mr. Eddrup ! — Oh, bad man !" was groaned
all round the table ; and then everybody laughed.

Mr. Eddrup took not the smallest notice of any-
body, calmly sitting with his eyes fixed before him.
The immobility of his features was very remark-
able. He took no notice at all, either by look or
gesture. He was a small, thin man, with a broad,
high brow. His hair, which had not fallen off, and
was still thick, lay in long, white masses — much
longer than young men wear it — and gave him a
singular, out-of-the-way appearance, not easily for-

A Matter-of-fact Story, 227

gotten. But his face attracted Frank at once. It
had a quite inexpressible charm of sweetness. The
cheeks were pinched in ; round the eyes were
crows*-feet ; the lips were thin ; but in the sad
smile that lived upon his mouth you could read the
presence of some spirit of content which made the
foolish gibes of the rest fall upon him unregarded*
Who was he 1 Why did he live at Skinxp's ?
Frank caught himself looking at him during the
dinner with ever-increasing wonder. It must be
poverty ; — perhaps it was avarice. His clothes
were worn and threadbare. He drank nothing but
water with his dinner.

The dinner consisted of an enormous leg of
mutton — the biggest ever seen, probably, and,
Frank thought, perhaps the stringiest. He found
that you could have beer, or even wine — only that
luxury was hardly known at Mrs. Skimp's dinner
table — by ordering it of the red-armed attendant.
During the intervals of feeding, a running horse-
play of wit went on at Mr. Eddrup's expense. His
appetite was commented on — his personal appear-
ance and habits. Stories, not the most delicately
chosen, were told about his antecedents. To all
this Mr. Eddrup was entirely callous. Captain
Hamilton greatly distinguighed himself in this

IS— 2

228 Ready-money Mortiboy,

feast of reason by a persistent disr^ard of a
woman's presence, and a steady accumulation of
insinuations against the morals of the old gentle-
man, which did him infinite credit.

'* Does this sort of thing go on every evening ?"
asked Frank of his neighbour. Captain Bowker,
the only one who took no part in the conversa-
tion,

" Every morning and every evening. Breakfast
and dinner. At two bells and the dog watch," re-
plied Captain Bowker.

Frank hardly understood the last allusion, but
let it pass.

Dinner concluded as it had begun, without the
ceremony of grace, and the guests rose one by one,
and strolled into the billiard-room.

Captain Hamilton and the three at the end of
the table alone remained. He advanced to Frank
with an easy grace, and tendered him his card.

" Let us know each other,'* he said, " as we are
for the moment in the same hole."

Frank took the card : *' Captain Hamilton." No
regiment upon it.

" Ceylon Rifles," said the Captain.

** My name is Melliship," said Frank. He would
not have another alias.

A Matter-of-fact Story. 229

" Come and join our pool, Mr. MelHship."

" No, thank you. I never play at billiards, ex-
cept — ^that is, I never do play."

" Come and look on. You can bet on the game,
and smoke.*'

" I never bet, thank you," said Frank, coldly.

" Well, what do you do, then ?" asked the Cap-
tain, rudely.

" What the devil, sir, is that to you ?"

The blood rushed through Frank's veins again.
He was getting combative against this thinly-
disguised rook.

Captain Hamilton turned on his heel, and went
away. A minute or two afterwards the click of
the balls was heard, and an approving laugh at
some anecdote of the gallant officer's — probably an
account, from his own point of view, of his late in-
terview with Frank.

Mr. Eddrup still sat at the end of the table —
Captain Bowker beside him. They rose together
as soon as the room was cleared.

" Young man," said Captain Bowker, " I am glad
to hear that you don't bet — likewise that you don't
play billiards. Come upstairs, and have a pipe in
the drawing-room with me and Mr. Eddrup. We
use this room pretty much to ourselves," said Cap-

230 Ready-money Mortiboy,

tain Bowker, taking an easy-chair. "The others
prefer the billiard-room. They go out, too, a good
deal in the evenings. That's a great thing at
Skimp's. A man is left alone if he likes."

The speaker was a man of about fifty-five or so
— ^weather-beaten, rugged. He had fair hair and
blue eyes, and had a habit of looking straight ahead
at nothing, which comes of a dreamy nature. He
was an old "ship captain" — Le,^ a merchant service
skippen

It is a singular thing about skippers, that ashore
they are all uniformly the most gentle, tractable
creatures that walk about. They drink sometimes,
which is thefir only vice. You may do what you
like with them. A child can lead them with a
thread. Afloat ! Phew ! Defend us from serving
under the flag of a merchantman — British or
Yankee. Language which belongs to the merchant
service alone ; hard blows which belong peculiarly
to the galleys ; rough treatment, such as a Moorish
prisoner used to look for — all these you may expect
from the merchant captain.

But Captain Bowker was ashore now, and it was
only from occasional hints in conversation that you
got any gleams of light as to the other side of
him.

A Matter-of-fact Story, 231

Mr. Eddrup did not smoke. He sat at the
window, and leaned his head on his hand.

"They're a wild set downstairs," said Captain
Bowker. " They want a little discipline."

"They are all young," said Mr. Eddrup — "all
young. We pardon everything to the young."
He turned to Frank, smiling.

" I don't know," said Frank. " I should not be
inclined to pardon everything to the young. I like
men of my own age — I suppose I am young — ^to
behave with some approach to good manners, as
well as to be men of honour."

" Honourable. Yes — ^yes. The young must be
always honourable. We can pardon anything but
dishonesty. But good manners. Surely, sir, it is a
very small matter."

"Well, yes — but a sufficiently important small
matter, Mr. Eddrup. May I light a cigar T

He lit and smoked one of Dick's Havanas — Cap-
tain Bowker all the while puffing vigorously at a
pipe with a long cherry stick, which held about an
ounce or so of cut-up ship tobacco. No one came
near them except Mrs. Skimp, who brought up tea.
She gave Frank his cup, whispering in his ear as
she did so —

232 Ready-money Mortiboy.

" It's a shilling a-week extra. Only Mr. Eddruj> *
and Cap*en Bowker has it."

Presently Mr. Eddrup got up, and stole out of
the room. Frank saw him cross the square, and
disappear in one of the streets on the other side.

" He always goes out at eight, every night, and
comes home at eleven," said Captain Bowker.

"What is he.?"

Captain Bowker evaded the question.

"He's great company for me. If it warn't for
him, Skimp's would be as dull as my old cabin in
the Doldrums. I should go to live at Poplar, where
IVe got chums. You never went a long sea voyage^
I suppose T

" No longer than from Newhaven to Dieppe."

" Ah ! then you Ve got to find out what solitude
means. Be a skipper, sir, and you'll know. They
look up to us, sir, and envy our position. It's natu-
ral, they should." He spoke as if he was an ad-
miral at least. " But it isn't all sailing with the sou'-
west trade wind aft. Some of us drink. That's
bad. Now, beyond my four or five goes of grog of
a night, a pannilcin or so of a morning, another
about noon, and one or two after dinner, I never
did drink. I'm not one of your everlasting nippers.
And what's the consequence, sir.? Here I am,,

^

A Matter-of-fact Story, 235

sound in limb at fifty-five. Pensioned oflf by my
noble firm after forty years' service, and happy for
the rest of my days."

He paused, and rang the bell.

"Bring the usual, Mary, and two tumblers.
You shall have a glass of my rum to-night, Mn
Melliship. What was I a-saying.^"

"You were saying that you were going to be
happy for the rest of your days. So I suppose
you are going to take a wife. Captain Bowker,"

" A wife ! The Lord forbid ! No, sir, I did that
once — ^fifteen years ago — once too often. Ah ! well
— she's dead ; at least, I suppose so." He turned
quite pale, and beads of perspiration stood on his
forehead. "Well, let that pass. What kept me
from drink was, that I had a resource which is
given to few men. Do you compose, sir V

" Compose t Music T

"No — music — nonsense ."^ Anybody can make
music. Verses, sir — immortal verses. That's what
I used to spend my time in doing when I was
below in the cabin. Now here" — he pulled a
folded and frayed piece of paper out of his pocket
"here is a copy I made in my last voyage
home. Read it, and tell me candidly what you
think of it."

\

234 Ready-money Mortiboy,

Frank opened it. It began —

m

Tis fearful, when the running gear is taut,
And creaking davits yield a frail support."

" Hem ! Rhyme rather halts here, doesn't it }
Shall I read the rest at my leisure, Captain
Bowker ?"

"No, no — no time like the present. Give me
hold, young man. Now, then — stand by — here's
the rum. So, sit steady, and listen."

He read his composition. Frank listened as one
in a dream. What next.? To sing in a music
hall, to live at Skimp's, to sit at the same table
with Captain Hamilton, to hear Captain Bowker
read his verses : this was not encouraging. He
would have to go to the Palace in the morning, to
rehearsal. After all, it is necessary to live. At
least, one would be able to pay one's way on three
guineas a-week.

" So, like the Doldrums' calm, his onward way
Is checked who dares thy laws to disobey."

It was the termination of Captain Bowker's poem.

Frank woke up.

*' Very good indeed, Captain Bowker. The last
lines especially — ^very good. They remind me of
Pope.

A Matter-of-fact Story. 235

* So, like the Doldrums' onward way, his calm
Is checked who dares to — ^ "

" Not quite right," said the divine bard, with a
smile. " But you are not a sailor. Shall I read it
again ?"

" No, don't— pray don't."

" I won't. Let us talk."

That meant, "Let me talk."

Frank lay back in his easy chair, and dreamed
of Grace, and the pleasant country-side. How was
he to win her ; — how to pay off those debts } It
was not a hopeful reverie. There are times when
the veil of illusion falls off. It is at best but a fog,
most common in the morning of life, and extremely
pretty when the sun shines upon it. It was fallen
now. Frank measured the distance between him-
self and Grace, and saw that it was widening every
day.

Captain Bowker recalled him. He was maun-
dering on :—

" — when I commanded the Merry Moonshine^ in
the Chinese coolie trade, running to Trinidad. It
was an anxious time, because we had four hundred
of them aboard, and not too much rice. They used
to murder each other — ten, a dozen or so^every
night. That lessened the numbers."

\

236 Ready-money Mortiboy.

" What did they do that for ?"

" What do men always fight about ? Then we
had bad weather — ^terrible bad weather: got on
the edge of a cyclone. We had the coolies battened
down 'tween decks ; and what with the noise of the
storm, and the cries of them wild cats, and the
mainmast going by the board, I do assure you it
was as much as I could do to get that poem finished.
As it was, it wasn't really finished till I got home
— for there was a lot more unpleasantness. We
put in at Allegoey Bay; and directly the coolies
caught sight of land, I'm blest if forty or fifty didn't
chuck themselves out of the ports and overboard,
,to swim ashore. I do not remember," he said^
stroking his nose — "I do not remember hearing
that any of them got there. There's sharks off
that coast, you know. But think of the loss it was
to me !"

CHAPTER THE FIFTEENTH.

jFTER walking through a
number of narrow and
dark passages, Frank
found himself at last in
the North London Palace
of Amusement and Aris-
tocratic Lounge.

Dingy and dirty by
daylight it appeared.

Plenty of light — to
show the tawdiy, gas and
smoke-tarnished state of the decorations — came in
through a lantern in the great domed roof ; for the
place had once been a daylight exhibition — a sort
of superior Polytechnic, started at the same time as

238 Ready-money ^M or tiboy,

the mechanics' institutes, whither it was thought the
people would eagerly flock to improve their minds.
Mr. Leweson's company could therefore rehearse
comfortably without the gas — except on very dark
and foggy days.

The features of the building struck Frank as
something familiar. His father and the flavour of
Bath buns flashed upon him ; for memory mixes
incongruous elements as old recollections pour upon,
us. He had once been taken there as a little boy^
when what was now a music hall had been the
Lyceum. The place had now, however, tumbled
down from its high estate, and in its fall had ruined
half a dozen speculators before the genius of a
Leweson made it pay.

Frank looked round. It was the same place — he
was sure of that ; though how changed was all
about him !

He remembered the great, bare hall, with half a
dozen dreary electric machines ; the galleries, round
which geological specimens were arranged ; its side
wings, where were displayed such objects as ancient
British pottery, specimens of early type, botanical
collections, and other dry and improving things.
He remembered how he had been led round, wearily
yawning, with a party of girls who began by yawn-

\

A Matter-of-fact Story, 239

ing too, and ended by snapping at each other. All
the time there had been the buzz of a lecturer's
voice, as he addressed an audience consisting of an
uncle and two miserable nephews, on the more
recent improvements in machinery employed in the
manufacture of cotton fabrics. And he remembered
how his heart lightened up when they came to a
refreshment stall, and everybody had a cake.

He rubbed his eyes, and looked round. Yes — it
was the same place ; but where the electric machines
had stood was now a stage, where the geological
collection had formerly been was now a row of
private boxes. The apparatus had all disappeared :
only the refreshment-room remained, and this was
vastly increased, and improved.

" Here we are," said Mr. Leweson. " This is
where the loonatics come every night to stare, and
listen, and drink. Amuse yourself by looking for
half an hour or so."

" I have been here before," Frank began.

" Everybody comes here — it's one of the sights
of London," said Mr. Leweson, interrupting him ;
" and the loonatics "

It was Frank's turn to interrupt.

" I mean years ago, when it used to be called the
Lyceum. I was a boy then."

240 Ready-money Mortiboy.

"Phyoo!*' the proprietor whistled. "Ah! quite
another thing. It was a Limited Li Company. It
would have smashed 'em all up instead of being
smashed itself, if it hadn't been. It has been lots
of things since then. Nobody made it pay till I
took it in hand. Mark me," continued Mr. Lewe-
son, with great gravity, and in his deepest voice —

" Well, sir."

" That'll be the end of that round place they're
building at Kensington."

" What, the Albert Hall .?" cried Frank.

" Yes, certain to come to it — only a question of
time. Be a place just like this, and with the Horti-
cultural Gardens at the back to walk out into and
dance in the summer — Ranelagh, Vauxhall, and
Cremorne thrown into one would be nothing to it.
I'd give — I'd give — there, I don't know what I
wouldn't give a year for that place, with the gardens
thrown in ; and pay the biggest dividend that ever
was paid by anything in this world before."

" But, my dear sir," Frank began, shaking his
head.

" Ah, you may laugh : and I may not, and I dare
say I shall not, live to see it, but that is the future
of those two places, as sure as eggs are eggs — take
my word for it. But, there, I must leave you and

A Matter-of-fact Story. 241

attend to my business— they want me. Go any-
where you like, only not on the stage just yet— r
you'd be in the way. The new ballet is just coming
on.

Mr. Leweson left Frank in front of the stage,
and disappeared himself down a trap-door in the
orchestra.

Frank took a seat in a box near the stage, and
looked about him.

The scene was new to him, and, apart from the
novelty, was interesting in itself.

The curtain was up. It revealed an immense
stage, crowded with children, girls, and men. The
wings and drops were representations of the foliage
of a forest of palms. In the background was a vast
gold fan, which at night unfolded and displayed
Titania, Queen of the Fairies, reclining among her
attendant sprites and fays.

In front, close to the wire fencing of the footlights,
stood a little, mean table, covered with slips of
manuscript. At the table sat the chief of the
orchestra, making annotations on his score with a
red chalk pencil, sometimes from the manuscripts,
sometimes without reference to them. By the con-
ductor's side stood an iron music stand, three empty
rush-bottomed chairs, and a fiddle in a case.

VOL. II. 16

242 Ready-money Mortiboy,

The rehearsal had not yet begun, and the girls
were collected in little knots, always breaking up
and re-forming ; chattering together like so many
grasshoppers, and laughing perpetually, at nothing
at all, and just out of the irrepressible gaiety of their
hearts. At the sides of the proscenium were two
sheets of looking-glass. These were a great source
of attraction, and never idle for a 'second. Con-
stantly, one or two of the girls would leave the rest,
and, going in front of the glass, execute a few
choregic gyrations quite gravely, no one taking the
least notice of them, nor they of any one else. It
was quaint to see them staidly pirouetting, gyrating,
dnd posturing before these great glasses, each one
totally regardless of the rest. The private practice
and self-examination before a woman's most faithful
confessor accomplished, the young ladies would
retire to their friends, and join in the never-ending
chatter. Directly they left the mirrors, their places
were seized by a lot of tiny children — girls — ^who,
in ragged dresses, mere little children of the gutter,
solemnly ambled up and down in front of the glass,
put out their chubby little legs, and waved their
little red arms. They never tired of looking at
themselves. When their elder sisters came and
turned them out, they fled like wasps from a honey

A Matter-of-fact Story. 243

pot. The moment the coast was clear, back they
all came, tumbling over each other in their eager-
ness to be in the front, and began once more the
children's imitation of their elders* vanities.

Frank looked on at this lively scene with great
interest. He had never seen a rehearsal before.
From what he had heard of the young ladies of the
ballet, he had been accustomed to regard them as
melancholy victims of mistaken art — ^persons who
were compelled by want to sacrifice their self-
respect, and go through a nightly course of public
posturing for the admiration of a foolish crowd.
Now he met them in flesh and blood, he found all
his original ideas knocked on the head. So far
from having no self-respect, they appeared to be
full of it ; so far from having any sense of humilia-
tion, they evidently delighted in their calling. Of
course, it will be seen that Frank was exceedingly
inexperienced. At the same time, had he been the
most hardened old rou^ that ever walked behind
the scenes, he could not but be struck with the
natural gaiety and light-heartedness of the girls.
It was all real : no affectation or false semblance.
They were all happy, all laughing, all chattering,
all dancing, running, and capering about the
stage.

16 — 2

V

244 Ready-money Mortiboy.

The men and boys kept at the back. They
were an exceedingly shady-looking lot. As it
afterwards appeared, their business in the ballet
was to come in and make gestures, to fill up the
back ground, to stand in attitudes, and perform
other easy and elementary parts which belong to
dramatic representation.

The girls had nothing to say to them ; and they,
for their part, never spoke to the girls, but kept
to themselves under Titania's great fan.

A little commotion among the crowd. It
opened, and made a way for Mr. Leweson, the
master of the ballet, and his two assistants. The
three professors of the art of dancing were French
— that was patent at half a glance. The same
sallow, shaven cheeks, the same cropped black
moustache, the same height, belonged to all. As
Mrs. Partington would say, they might all three
have been twins. And this natural resemblance
was heightened by their all appearing in bluish
pilot jackets, rather tight-fitting black trousers,
and cloth boots.

Mr. Leweson signed to a pale man to open the
fiddle case, and begin.

^* WeVe got lots of work to get through, Mr.
Sauerharing" — the master of the ballet was an

A Matter-of-fact Story. 245

Alsatian by birth — " so let us get on. I want to
see that ballet of butterflies perfect this afternoon."

" M'sieur, you shall see it.

" It's a very stiff job."

" Bah ! — pooh !** dissented Sauerharing, " It —
is — ^noth — ^thing."

" Glad to hear it."

" Psha ! You shall see it pairfect, while you say
one, two." He looked at the fiddler. " Go on," he
said.

His assistants vanished among the girls, when
they were seen at intervals among the crowds of
coryphees, setting good example. The fiddler
struck up, and the ballet commenced. The girls
were dressed in all kinds of costumes. Some had
their plain walking dresses of stuff or black silk,
only with their bonnets and jackets off ; some had
the "bodies" of the dress — the skirts being re-
moved — leaving them in soiled muslins ; some wore
a kind of short petticoat; one or two were iit
what theatrical critics call page dress, but what the
girls call " shapes," such as they would appear in
at night. They all wore silk stockings, some of
them having on a kind of red gaiters, which Frank
*took to be elastic, and intended to strengthen thq
limb. He had noticed, previous to the rehearisal,

246 Ready-money Mortiboy,

one or two artists more conscientious than the rest
engaged in diligently rubbing their ankles and the
circumjacent regions. At first he could not make
out the reason of this manoeuvre, but was at length
reminded of Lillie Bridge and professional runners.
Then he knew what it was meant for.

" Go an," said the ballet master, pronouncing the
word as if he were an Irishman — "go an, lad-ees."

They went "an" in that vast hall, with one
spectator — Frank — and to the scraping of the soli-
tary fiddle. It marked time; but, for anything
else, a battalion of Guards might as well have
marched to the sounds of one penny whistle, or a
cathedral choir have been accompanied by a Jew's
harp. They were learning the figures of the but-
terflies' ballet, and began the first with great vigour
and energy.

But they were not right about it.

M. Sauerharing threw out his arms, and trilled a
prolonged guttural " Ah h !"

" Bah ! — pooh ! — phit ! — tush ! — psha !" he cried
in a string, and then gave a "klick," like a whole
cab rank starting in pursuit of a double fare.

The music stopped. The ladies laughed. The
professor said —

" Stupeed ! this is the step."

A Matter-of-fact Story, 247

Then he capered solemnly in front of them.

" One, two ; one, two — lal-lal-la, laUal-la ; one,
two ; three, four."

Behind him, a long file of coryphees imitated
his movements. To Frank, Sauerharing's limbs
seemed to be of india-rubber as he shook them
from side to side.

" One, two — one, two. Now, again."

The odd thing being that they never once
stopped chattering to each other and laughing.

They were admirably drilled. Not one but kept
her eye fixed upon the master — that is, one eye,
the other being given up to seeing how the other
girls were getting on. It was wonderful to see
them catching the combinations, and patiently
working them out. As for patience, it was difficult
to say whether the girls were more patient or the
master more painstaking.

Presently the chief of the orchestra crossed the
stage to M. Sauerharing. Directly the master
turned to speak to him, the girls began to romp
about, one after the other darting from the ranks,
and executing a pirouette on her own account in
the centre of the stage, making believe to be for
once a premiere danseuse. Then the master turned
round, and order was re-established.

248 Ready-money Martiboy,

Presently came the children's turn. A ragged
regiment they were by daylight ; at night, butter-
flies and moths — all spangles and gauze. Now,
with muddy stockings and shoes full of holes,
giving M. Sauerharing and his aides de camp a vast
deal more trouble to teach them one figure than
their elder sisters would do in learning a dozen.

Their drilling lasted half an hour at least ; and at

•t _

least once in two minutes the indefatigable and, as
it appeared, ubiquitous Sauerharing stopped fiddle
and children with his guttural, tremulant ** Ah —
h — ^h !" and reeled off the five expressions of dis-
content he had learned from a phrase book of the
English tongue in the paternal orchard in his own
Alsace —

" Bah !— pooh !— phit !— tush !— psha !"
To him they were a word in five syllables, and
he ejaculated them to a sort of tune, as an angry
vocalist might sound his " Do, re, mi, fa, sol."

Among the children, one little mite of about six
years attracted Frank's attention. She had been
the most assiduous while she was on the stage in
ambling up and down before the mirrors. Now
she led off the train of children with a precision
and solemnity that were most edifying, executing
her simple steps most carefully and conscientiously.

A Matter-of-fact Story. 249

The moment she was free again, she ran off to the
looking-glass, and practised them over again, with
many curtseys and salutes, wonderful to see. That
child will rise and be heard of in her profession,
unless some unlucky accident cuts her off.

While this branch of the corps de ballet were
practising figures and groupings, there came upon
the scene one of the principal dancers, dressed as
if for the evening, but without any flowers 01^
jewels, just as she appears in the initial letter
to this chapter. She walked across the front
of the stage, regarding the lower members of
the profession with that stare that sees nothing,
common enough among the gentle daughters
of England's aristocracy. A mere ballet girl,
a troupe of ballet girls, what could they possibly
be in the eyes of Mdlle. Goldoni, from the opera
house of Milan .^ In her hand she bore a small
watering-pot, with which she sprinkled the boards
in front of the looking-glass on the left, took pos-
session of it, and proceeded to practise by herself.
First, she turned round on the left toe, with the
right leg a foot and a half above her head ; then
she performed the same manoeuvre with her right
toe and left leg ; then she placed her foot as high
up on the gilded pillar of the proscenium as she

250 Ready-money Mortiboy*

could, and kept it there ; then she began arching
her feet before the glass ; then she went over the
whole performance again — never disturbed by the
others, who took no manner of notice of her, and
never herself taking the least notice of the rest ; —
all the while looking in the glass with a sort of
curiosity, as if the legs belonged to somebody else.
One or two other people, including a lady of im-
mense proportions, in black velvet, came in, and sat
on chairs in front of the stage. The little children
romped round the house, and vaulted about over
the backs of the seats. The unhappy-looking
youths, in felt hats and greasy coats, at the back
went through the semblance of what they were
about to perform at night in spangles and hodden
suits. The assistant ballet master capered and
danced all over the stage. The girls went through
their drill again and again. No one got tired.
The melancholy fiddler, whose strains produced a
profoundly saddening effect on Frank, played on
with the pertinacity and monotony of an organ
grinder. The conductor of the orchestra made his
notes on the music ; the big lady in black velvet
gazed on unweariedly ; the manager, Mr. Leweson,
came and went, bringing his big head upon the
stage and taking it off again at intervals.

A MatUr-of'fact Story. 25 1

At last he came round to Frank's box with a
portfolio in his hand.

"Always a lot to do with the production of a
new ballet. Now let us talk while they finish the
rehearsal. You see, Mr. Melliship, the loonatics
who come here like a ballet : not that they care,
bless you, what it's like, or what it means, so long
as there's plenty of short skirts on the stage. But
it must be a Spectircle ! Another thing the loona-
tics that frequent this miserable Palace of Humbug
like is the sight of somebody running the risk of
breaking their bones. So we've got a trapeze
rigged up, as you see. But they must needs have
a Woman, so we've got the Divine Giulia — Giulia
Silvani — to perform with her father. I daresay
they'll be round presently. Comic songs of course
they must have. We've got the Inexpressible
Jones, and the Incomparable and Aristocratic
Arthur De Vere. They only come at night, of
course. Beautiful specimens of the aristocracy,
both of them — but they go down with the loona-
tics."

He stopped, and began to look about in his port-
folio.

He produced a manuscript.

" Now, with a singer like yourself, there are only

252 Ready-money Mortiboy.

two lines open. You must give up altogether the
notion that the British loonatic wants music. He
doesn't. He wants sentiment to make him cry,
and patriotism to warm up his puny little heart.
Fm ashamed of him, Mr. Melliship — I am, indeed.
But what can I do } Here I am, after advertising
you yesterday in all the papers, and sending sand-
wiches up and down the streets to-day "

" Advertising me ! "

" Yes. Look here : wonder you didn't see it as
you came along."

He called one of the children, and sent her for a
bill. She presently returned with a flaming poster.

NORTH LONDON PALACE OF AMUSEMENT AND ARISTOCRATIC LOUNGL

IN ADDITION TO THB

GALAXY OF TALENT

Already engaged, the Manager has great pleasure in an-
nouncing that he has secured, for a short time only, the
services of the

New and Great Anglo-Italian Tenor,

SI6N0R CIPRIANO.

The Signor, who has never sung before in England, but who
is well known to possess the Finest Tenor Voice in the World,
will Sing

A Matter-of-fact Story. 253

TO-NIGHT,

AND UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE,

THREE BALLADS.

EVERY EVENING.
At Half-past Eight and Half -past Nine.

Across this announcement was a coloured strip,
with " To-night" upon it.

Frank read it with a mixed feeling of annoyance
and amusement. After all it didn't matter. His
new grand name was better, at any rate, than his
own — if he must appear before a British audience.

"I suppose it's all right," he said, doubtfully,
handing it back.

" Of course it is ; but the thing is, what you're to
sing. Now, I asked my man" — he meant a musical
understrapper who composed songs for him, words
and music, at a pound a-piece — " I asked my man
to knock me off a little thing in imitation of the
Christy's songs of domestic pathos — you know —
like *slam the door loudly, for mother's asleep,*
* Touch the place softly, my pretty Louise,' ' Father,
come home, for mother is tight' ; — charming songs,
you know, with a chorus soft and whispered at the
end, so as to bring the tears in the people's eyes.

s.

254 Ready-money Mortiboy.

Now, what do you think he brought me this
morning. Read that"

He looked at Frank curiously, while the latter
read it and laughed.

It was a song based on one of the humblest and
most ordinary topics of " domestic pathos," and ran
thus : —

" He will catch it from his mother,

For the widow's heart is low.
And beneath the weeping willows,

Still her wayward child will go.
O'er the river course the shadows —

He has spoiled his boots and hat —
While the sunset lights the meadows,

For his mother spank the brat"

" 'Vulgar and coarse'.^ I knew you*d say so,"
said the Bighead. " It*s a pity, too. My man told
me it was written in direct imitation of the great
original — with whispered chorus, and all. See what
a capital effect it would have. You in the centre,
head held down in attitude of listening — so ; voices
behind — unseen, you know — 'for his mother* — 'for
his mother' — ' for his mother' — dying away, with a
harp obligato to follow."

"TU sing it if you like," said Frank. "What
does it matter, if the people like it .?"

" Ah, we must follow the loonatics, not lead 'em,

A Matter-of-fact Story, 255

as I should wish," said Mr. Leweson, sighing.
" Well, well, we'll have it ; though it's a shame —
it's a shame to ask a man with your voice to sing
such a song. Now for the second — *The Bay of
Biscay/ It will suit you well. They'll encore that ;
or you may sing ' The Death of Nelson.' And now
to try the room/^

He led the way to the stage, had a piano wheeled
in, sat down, and directed Frank where to stand —
giving him, at the same time, a few hints on the
art of bowing to an assemblage of British loonatics.

The acoustic properties of the place were splendid.
Frank felt as if he had never sung in his life before,
as he heard his own voice filling the great building,
and echoing in the roof.

** What do you think of that V whispered Mr.
Leweson to the conductor.

" How long have you got him for V

"Two months' agreement first. I'm going to
make him sign directly."

" How much ?"

" Three guineas."

** Make it six months. You won't keep him a day
beyond his time."

Frank finished.

" How was that Mr. Leweson V

256 Ready-money Mortiboy.

" Very good — very good. A little softer at the
finish : don't be afraid they won't hear you. I'll
have the chorus all right for you by the time you
come this evening. Now for * The Death of Nelson.'
You may make the glasses ring, if you like. Come
in Patty, my dear. Where's your father .?"

This was to a new comer — a singularly pretty,
modest-looking girl. He did not wait for an answer
to his question, but began at once.

Frank finished the song, and Mr. Leweson clapped
his hands in applause.

" That'll bring the house down, if anything will.
Bravo, Mr. — I mean, Signor Cipriano, you know.
Now, look here — I'm not going to have you en-
cored, and spoiling your voice, to please a lot of
loonatics, so they needn't think it. To-night, you
may do it. I shall go on myself, and make a speech
after it. You'll hear me. Patty, this is our new
singer — a very different sort to the rest, as you'll
find. Signor, this is the Divine Giulia Silvani— only
at home we call her Patty Silver ; and she's worth
her weight in gold, I can tell you. Here's her
father."

Frank took off his hat, and shook hands with the
girl. Her hands were rough and hard, her fingers
thick — he noticed that as she stood gloveless on

A Matter-of-fact Story, 257

the stage. But her face was wonderfully soft and
delicate in expression : one of those faces — the
features not too good, and perhaps common-place
in character — ^which one meets from time to time in
the London streets ; — not the face of a lady at all,
but, at the same time, a lovable and good face.
She was different to the ballet girls, somehow — had
none of their restlessness, did not laugh, did not
jump about before the glass : stood quietly beside
the piano, and just listened and waited. She was
the female trapezist, and with her father performed
the Miraculous Flying Leap for Life every night.
Her little brother completed the talented Salvani
Family ; and, though yet of tender years, was ad-
mitted to a trifling performance on a small trapeze
of his own, from which he could not fall more than
twenty or thirty feet or so — a mere trifle to a child
of ten.

The family were special favourites of the manager,
for some reason or other. His big head had a big
heart connected with it, as more than one in the
place had found out.

After singing his songs, and receiving the sugges-
tions of his employer, Frank went with him to his
private room. A paper was lying on the table.

" That's your agreement, Mr. MelHship. You

VOL. IL 17

■jj^"^" -* ■;

2S8 Ready-money Mortiboy,

pledge yourself to sing for me, and only me, for
two months, at a fixed salary of three guineas a-
week, at least three ballads or songs every night.
I introduce you to the public, and have my profit
out of the small salary you will get. You see, Mr.
Melliship, I'm a plain man. I like your voice. I
like your appearance. I am making terms advan-
tageous to myself, but not bad for you. And if you
were to go to anybody in London, you wouldn't
get better for a first engagement. My conductor
advised me to nail you down for six months, but I
keep to my original terms. Treat me well, Mr.
Melliship, and V\\ treat you well. So there we are ;
and, if you'll sign, a pint of champagne and a dry
biscuit will help us along."

Frank drank the champagne, signed his name,
and went away, free until eight.

He dined at Mrs. Skimp's, where old Mr. Eddrup
was, as usual, made the butt of " Captain " Hamil-
ton's wit. After dinner he smoked a pipe in the
garden of the square ; and then, as the time was
fast approaching, he dressed himself with consider-
able care, and walked to the Palace.

The place was crowded. Nearly every man had
a glass before him, and a pipe or a cigar in

A Matter-of-fact Story, 259

mouth. There were constant cries of "Waiter,"
<:onstant popping of corks. The smell of tobacco
was overpowering. The heat and the gas made the
place almost intolerable. Frank stood at the side
wings while a ballet went on — not that which he
had seen rehearsed, but a simpler one, intended to
open the evening.

"After this, the Inexpressible Jones. After him,
you," said Mr. Leweson. "That's to take him
down a few pegs. He thinks he's got a tenor.
With a voice like a cow.'*

The Inexpressible sang. He was encored. He
sang again. They wanted to encore him a second
time. It was a charming pastoral, relating how he,
the I. J., had been walking one evening in the fields
with an umbrella, and had there met a young lady
belonging to the same exalted rank among the
aristocracy as himself; how he had held a conver-
sation with her under his umbrella ; how she had
promised to meet him the next evening, provided
he came with his umbrella ; how he had kept his
appointment, with his umbrella, and how she had
not. It was a comic song, acted with an umbrella,
so true to life that the " loonatics " shrieked with
laughter.

17 — 2

26o Ready-money Mortiboy,

When the laughter had quite subsided, it was^
Frank's turn to go on.

Mr. Leweson was below among the audience
contemplating his patrons with an air of undis-
guised contempt. He was the first person Frank
saw in the mass of heads beneath and in front or
him.

For a moment, he trembled and lost his nerve. *
Only for a moment. As the piano struck up, he
managed to see the words that were swimming^
before him, and plunged at once into his ballad of
the domestic affections.

The chorus was more than admirable — ^it was
superb : an invisible chorus, in soft voices, mur-
muring the refrain like an echo —

" For his mother — for his mother — for his mother ;"

till the people cried at the pathos.

" The loonatics," he heard the manager growling
to himself

The applause was tremendous. He retired amid
a general yell of "'core — 'core!" and reappeared
a moment after with flushed cheeks — for even the
approbation of "loonatics" is something — to sing
" The Death of Nelson."

A Matter-of-fact Story, 261

Frank went home that night satisfied, if not
happy. He was a success at last — if only a success
at three guineas a-week. He prayed fervently that
no old friends would come to detect him. If only
he could preserve his incognito, all would be well.

He reckoned only on old friends. He had for-
gotten new acquaintances.

The very next day, at dinner, after a general
whispering at the upper end of the table, which
Mr. Eddrup interpreted to mean an organized
attack upon himself, Captain Hamilton turned to
him, and openly congratulated him on his success
the preceding evening at the North London Palace
of Amusement.

'* Of course," said the gallant officer, " it was an
unexpected pleasure to see, in the person of Signor
Cipriano, a gentleman who does us the favour to
dine at our humble table."

Frank reddened, and could find nothing to say.

Mr. Eddrup answered for him. It was the first
time the old man had ever been known to speak.

" I congratulate you," he said to Frank, " on the
possession of a talent which enables you to take
honest work. Believe me, sir, all work is honest."

" Bravo, old Eddrup !" shouted the medical
student. "We've made him speak at last. I

262 Ready-money Mortiboy,

always knew he was one of the most eloquent
orators going."

Frank turned with flushing cheeks.

" At all events/' he said, " it is better to sing at
a public place than to — to — "

" To what, sir ?" said the student.

" Singing cad !" escaped the Captain's lips, m
tones very clearly audible.

Frank half rose from his seat, and turned towards
the Captain.

" Better than loafing about in billiard-rooms, and
on suburban racecourses. Captain Hamilton."

There was a dead silence.

" After dinner, sir," said Captain Hamilton, after
a pause, " we must have a word together."

" And me, too," said the medical student, with,
disregard for grammar.

"Stick to 'em," whispered Captain Bowker.
" Stick to 'em. They're only curs. I'll see fair play.''

After dinner, Captain Hamilton, none of the rest
leaving the room, came up to Frank as he stood ini
the window.

" Sir, you have insulted me."

" Probably."

It was said calmly, but Frank's lips were
trembling.

A Matter-of-fact Story, 263

" Sir, you must give me satisfaction."

" Take it, ^hen," shouted the young man, striking
out with his left arm.

The Captain fell — and did not get up again.

" Oh ! gentlemen — gentlemen,'* cried Mrs. Skimp,
running before Frank — "don't fight — oh! pray
don't fight ! He owes me for six weeks," she
whispered.

" I said he was a loafer — a welcher. I know he
is. I have seen him ducked in a horsepond before
to-day," said Frank, who was recovering his calm-
ness.

The others all burst out laughing, except the
medical student, who thought that perhaps his
turn was coming next.

The Captain rose slowly, but with dignity.

" This," he said, " will not end here. You will
hear from me to-morrow."

He was leaving the room, the medical student
going with him.

" Stop," said Frank. " There is something else
to be said. Both yesterday and to-day — and, I
believe, always — there has been made a series of
attacks, personal, insulting, and cadish, on an old
gentleman of perfectly inoffensive habits — Mr.
Eddrup. The two principal offenders are you two

264 Ready-money Martiboy,

— Captain Hamilton and you — ^whatever your name
jbT — he pointed to the medical student. ^ Now, as
I, for one, decline to belong to those who wilfully
insult an old man, I intend to take his quarrel upon
mjTself. Whoever insults Mr. Eddrup, henceforth
insults me. Now, Captain Hamilton, and you
other, you may go to the devil."

They went out.

Mrs. Skimp was the only one who regretted the
incident

" Six weeks due from the Captain," she moaned,
" and four from the other."

" Sir," said Captain Bowker, wringing Frank's
hand, "Tm proud of you. You're a good fellow,
sir — a good fellow. I wish I could do something
for you."

Frank laughed.

" You can," he said. " You can come and hear
me sing ' The Death of Nelson,' if you like."

*'By the Lord, I will," said the Captain. "I
haven't been to a place of amusement for ten years.
I'll go to-night"

Mr. Eddrup said nothing. In his usual quiet
and methodical manner, he stepped out of the
room, and went upstairs.

In many cheap boarding-houses there is a P&re

A Matter-of-fact Story, 265

Goriot, young or old. In very few is there a man
to be found with cours^e to stand up and protect
a butt from the assaults of his enemies.

That night, Captain Hamilton went out, and
came back no more. His effects, when examined,
were found to consist principally of one trunk,
locked — filled with stones wrapped in newspapers.

CHAPTER THE SIXTEENTH.

tt T an early hour on the
moming after his " first

appearance," Frank a-
woke with strai^ely
mingled feelings of dis-
gust and pride. Mr.
Lew'eson's loonatics bad
cheered him to the
skies: that was some-
thing. On the other
hand, to have been
cheered by loonatics was not in itself, after the first
surpHBC,an exhilarating memory. He got up, cursing
his fate.

He went down to the palace, after breakfast, in the

A Matter-of-fact Story, 267

gloomiest frame of mind. He found the same
ballet rehearsal going on, only the second time it
was not by any means so interesting, having lost its
novelty. Ballet girls, he was able to remark,
romantic as the profession appears to outsiders,
possess much of the commonplace nature of the
untutored feminine animal. He speculated on
their probable ambition, on the subjects which
occupied their minds, and exercised their intellects.
Subsequent investigation, followed by discovery,
taught him in time that they never do think at all,
except about the means of getting dress, and have
no intellects to exercise. Mr. Leweson was in his
office, but too busy to see him, only sending out a
note that the performance of last night might be
repeated if he wished ; if not, he only had to
select his own songs.

Frank felt quite indifferent as to what songs he
sang, and so was turning away to leave the place,
when he saw the pretty girl to whom he had been
introduced the day before — the Divine Giulia. She
was with her father, superintending the arrange-
ment of certain trapeze ropes for a new feat they
were to perform that evening. Her dress was
changed. She had on the singular costume which
was invented, I suppose, when female gymnasts

268 Ready-motiey Mortiboy,

first came into fashion — something like the " page*'
dress of the stage. The Divine Giulia was attired
in Turkish trousers — which disappeared at night —
a crimson scarf, and what I have reason to believe
is called a chemisette. Her hair — brown, full, and
wavy — was gathered up at the back of her head in
such rich masses that no chignon was necessary.
Her father was also dressed in the uniform of his
profession, but without the spangles which covered
him in the evening. With them was a little boy,
the youthful Joey, also attired in the family cos-
tume. Frank stayed to look.

" May I look on while you practise Y^ he asked,
shaking hands with the acrobat and his daughter.

" Of course you may, Mr. — Signor.*'

" Signor Cipriano, fajther," said Patty.

" My name is Melliship," said Frank, red-
dening.

" You may help us, too," said the girl. "Set this
mattress straight. So. Now lay this one along the
tables. That is right. Ready, father ?"

One of the men regularly employed stood at the
bar, to set it swinging. They were to fly, one after
the other — the girl first — across the house, swing-
ing from one trapeze to the next, and landing on a
little platform at the end : a common feat enough.

Kft

A Matter-of-fact Story, 269

complicated by what the playbills called a summer-
sault in " mid-air " by the father.

Silvani, p^re, was a stout, strong-built man, about
forty years of age, or a little over. The muscles
showed through his tight fleshings like rope
bands.

" Fancy having to assist your governor in turning
summersaults," thought Frank.

It was a question whether the ropes should not
be lengthened by a foot or so, which would natu-
rally increase the distance to be traversed, but
lessen the danger. Mr. Silver gave it against the
longer length.

" But you may kill yourself," said Frank, " for
want of that extra foot."

" I don't think so. After all, a man can only die
once. Patty, my dear, youVe not afraid V

She shook . her head merrily, and mounted the
ladder. Frank trembled as she stood at the top —
slight, graceful, slender — poising herself like a bird
on the wing. Her father mounted after her, and
took another pair of ropes, standing behind her.

She gave a sign : the man set the trapeze swing-
ing, and Patty let herself go. The instant she
touched the first bar, her father followed, catching
it as it swung back when she left it. In a moment,

"1.

270 Ready-money Mortiboy,

they were standing side by side on a platform in
front of the first circle.

"Not quite steady enough. We must do it
again."

" No, don't," cried Frank — " don't. Surely once
IS enough.**

The girl laughed, and climbed again. Frank
was standing on the mattress at the far end of the
house, nearly under the landing-place — that is to
say, close under the dress circle. The feat looked
a great deal more dangerous in an empty theatre,
by daylight, than when the gas was lit, and the
place crammed with spectators.

Now, whether his nervousness communicated
itself to Patty, I know not ; but when she left the
two rings, and should have caught the first bar,
she missed it. Frank rushed forward, and caught
her by the shoulders, just as she would have fallen
heavily on the mattresses.

The weight of a girl of eighteen, though she be
a trapezist in full training, is no small matter — par-
ticularly when the velocity of her flight is taken
into consideration. The momentum of a body in
motion is represented, in applied mathematics, as a
quantity composed of the mass multiplied by the
velocity — which is, to the outer world, much as if

A Matter-of-fact Story ^ 271

one were to say pigs multiplied by candles. You
will realize what is meant if anything heavy falls
upon you. Frank fell back, with Patty upon him.
She was up in an instant, unhurt.

Her father, seeing the accident as he flew through
the air, kept tight hold of his rings, and swung
backwards and forwards until he could safely
alight.

" Why, Patty,*' he cried, " I Ve never known you
do such a thing before."

The girl was up in a moment — shaken, but not
hurt. Frank was not so fortunate. Her head but-
ting full upon his nose, caused that member to
bleed : a prosaic ending to a deed of some heroism
and skill — for he caught her like a cricket ball, only
with the softest and most delicate handling possible,
just as if he had always been practising the art of
<:atching trapeze girls so as not to hurt them.

Mr. Leweson, too, came running up. He was
just in time to witness the accident.

" Are you hurt, Patty — are you hurt V

" Not a bit — not a bit :" her lip was trembling in
the effort to suppress an hysterical sob. '' I should
have been if it had not been for Mr. Melliship,
though. We ought to ask him if he is hurt."

Frank was holding his handkerchief to his nose.

2/2 Ready-money Mortiboy,

and only shook his head, to intimate that the
damage done was such as could easily be repaired.

'• Good Heaven !" cried Mr. Leweson ; " and you
might have flown straight against the woodworks
Mr. Melliship, it was splendid — ^splendidly done^
sir.

"Well," said Mr. Silver, "as nobody's hurt, and
weVe got to do it to-night, I suppose we*d better
try it again, Patty."

" No — no," began Frank.

"Young gentleman," said Mr. Silver, "please
don't mterfere with our professional work."

" You are not too much shaken, Patty T inter-
posed the manager.

" Not shaken a bit. Now, father, we'll do it this
time."

She ran up the ladder lightly with her rings, flew
through the air from bar to bar, and arrived at the
landing-stage with the precision of a bird, followed
by her sire.

" Now, there," said Mr. Leweson, " is a splendid
creature for you. Now you see why I wanted
you to go on the trapeze with Giulia. Think of
the Triple Act that I had in my mind — Signor
Silvani holding the rings ; three bars, each two feet
lower than the other; on the Signor 's shoulders

A Matter-of-fact Story, 273

you would stand, Giulia on yours. The flight
through the air : the first bar for Giulia, the second
for you, the third for the father of the family. The
most magnificent idea in acrobatism ever conceived.
But there, if it can*t be, it can't, of course. Now,
then, Patty, hoist up the boy, and get your practice
done."

He walked aside, with his hand in Frank's arm,
while the child went through his performances.

" Mr. Melliship," he said, abruptly, " you are a
gentleman, that is clear. I dare say an army man,
now."

" No — I told you — I am a Cambridge man."

" Ah ! — well. But there are different sorts of
gentlemen, you see. Now, I think more goes to
make a gentleman than knowing how to eat, and
talk, and dress, and behave. I know the breed is
rare ; but there is a sort of gentleman in this
country who does not run after every pretty face
he meets, fancying that every pretty girl is his
natural prey. I say there is that sort of gentle-
man in the world, and I should be very glad to
think you belong to the kind; Mr. Melliship.
That's a long preamble ; but what I mean is this
— excuse my plain speaking — but I don't want my
little Patty humbugged, and I won't have it, sir, I

VOL. II. 18

>

274 Ready-money Mortiboy.

say — I won't have it, by any one. There — there —
Tm a fool."

" You can trust me," said Frank. " I am not
likely either to fall in love with her, or she with

me.

" Humph!" growled the man with the big head,
looking curiously at him. " I don't know that.
Well — well — IVc said what I wanted to, and you
are not angry ; so it is all right. Come and have
some fizz, Patty, my girl. After your shake, it will
do you good.'*

They all went to the manager's room, when he
produced a bottle of champagne, which they dis-
cussed together. If Mr. Leweson had a weakness,
it was for champagne. Patty Silver shared it.
Champagne was the one thing connected with the
department of the interior which Patty cared for.

" Very odd," thought PVank. " Here's the ma-
nager giving champagne to a family of acrobats.
Wonder if they always do it at music halls."

I believe, as a rule, that acrobats are not so well
treated by managers.

In this particular case there were reasons why
Mr. Leweson was especially kind to his talented
Silvani P^amily. It is a story which hardly belongs
to us. In the years gone by, there had been a

A Matter-of-fact Story, 275

forlorn little Israelite boy, whose father and mother
died in a far-off land, leaving him alone to the care
of strangers. None of his own people were in that
American town. Then a Christian man, a black-
smith by trade, took him in, and housed him. The
Christian man was Signor Silvani's father; the
little Jew was Mr. Emmanuel Leweson. Years went
on. • The Jew became a musician, a singer, a com-
poser ; the Christians went down in the world ; and
the whirligig of time brought them all together
again — Harry Silver an acrobat — Emmanuel
Leweson the manager and part proprietor — prin-
cipal shareholder — of the great North London
Palace of Amusement.

All this is irrelevant, save that it explains why
the manager produced his champagne, and why he
gave his warnings to Frank in language so em-
phatic.

The family resumed the ordinary attire of humble
British citizens, and Frank walked away with them.
They lived in a small house, in one of those streets
of gloomy small housefe which abound in Islington.
Patty nodded good-bye to him, and ran up the
steps with her brother, opening the door with a
latch key.

"Sir," said her father when she had gone in,

18—2

■>

2/6 Ready-money Mortiboy,

" you saved my daughter's life. What shall I say
to thank you ?"

" Nothing. Why do you let her do it ?"

" We must live. There is nothing dishonest in
it. There is not half the risk that you think about
it. As for me, I feel almost as safe on the trapeze
as you do on the pavement — and so does Patty, for
that matter."

" But— but— " Frank hesitated.

" Immodest, you think it is. I don't know, sir —
I don't know. There isn't a better girl than my
girl in all London, and I defy you to find one. No,
I had a great exercise of my conscience before I
let her go— only her gifts were too strong. It was
a-flying in the face of Providence not to let her
take a way which was opened, so to speak, unto
her. I laid the matter before my friend, Mr.
Eddrup— "

" Eddrup ! He that lives at Mrs. Skimp's, in
Granvillc-square V

" There is only one Mr. Eddrup, young man.
The Lord can't spare more than one at a time like
him. Do you know him .?"

" I live in the same house. Tell me about him."

" Ah, I think you had better find out about him.
Well, I laid the matter before him, and he decided

A Matter-of-fact Story. 277

that if the girl liked, and I was always there to look
after her, there would be no harm done. If you
live in the same house as Mr. Eddrup, young gen-
tleman, you try to talk to him. It was he that
showed me the Light."

Frank stared.

" Before I knew Mr. Eddrup, I was clean gone
astray, and out of the way altogether. Now, I'm
a different man. So is Patty. Do you mean that
Mr. Eddrup has never said a word in season to
you r

"Not yet. IVe only been in the house two
days."

" Then wait ; or — if you are not one of those who
go about scoffing and sneering at good men — come
with me on Sunday evening. But youVe a gen-
tleman, Mr. Melliship. You go to the Establish-
ment, I suppose."

Frank was too much astonished to find religion
in an acrobat to answer.

" There is spiritual food of different kinds,'* Mr.
Silver went on. " I can't get my nourishment in
the Church of England. Mind you, I'm not saying
a word against it. But I like freedom. I like to
have my say if I've got anything to say, and when
my heart is full."

2/8 Ready-money Mortiboy,

" What denomination do you belong to ?" asked
Frank.

"To none, sir, at present. Why should I ?
Every man is a priest in his own house. I am of
the religion of Abraham. First, I was a Plymouth
Brethren ; then I was a Primitive Methodists ; then
I was a Particular Baptists. I've tried the Hunt-
ingdon connection, and the Independents, and the
Wesleyans ) but I don't like them. I don't like
any of them. So I stay at home, and read the
Book ; or else I go and hear Mr. Eddrup on Sunday-
nights."

" Let me come and talk to you," said Frank.
" You shall tell me more about yourself, if you will.
I promise, at least, not to scoff and sneer at good
things."

" I'm an illiterate man, sir, and you are a gentle-
man, with education and all that, I dare say. But
come when you like."

" Let me come next Sunday evening. You
shall give me some tea," said Frank, in his lordly
way, as if he were inviting himself to a man's rooms
at college.

Mr. Silver looked after him with a puzzled ex-
pression, and went up the steps to dinner.

" A gentleman," he said to Patty, " who doesn't

^

A Matter-of-fact Story, 279

swear and use bad language ; who doesn't look as
if he got drunk ; who doesn't go about with a big
pipe in his mouth : who doesn't seem to mind talk-
ing about religious things. We don't get many
such gentlemen at the Palace of Amusement, do
us ?"

" But, father," said Patty, laying the things out
for dinner, "how does a gentleman come to be
singing in the Palace ? Gentlemen don't sing, do
they, in public places for money V

" I never heard of it. I will ask Mr. Eddrup.
Here's dinner. Joey, say grace."

In these early days, Frank thought it best to go
every morning to the Palace. This pleased Mr.
Leweson, who had conceived an immense admira-
tion for his new tenor. He showed this by solemnly
presenting him with a tenor song of his own com-
posing, which Frank sung, after the fourth night, in
place of that song of the domestic affections already
quoted. It was not so popular ; but that, as Mr.
Leweson remarked, was clear proof of its real
worth. Had the loonatics applauded, he said he
should have felt it his duty, as a musician, to put
the song in the fire.

Sunday came, and Frank bethought him of his

278 Ready-money Mortiboy,

" What denomination do you belong to ?" asked
Frank.

" To none, sir, at present. Why should I }
Every man is a priest in his own house. I am of
the religion of Abraham. First, I was a Plymouth
Brethren ; then I was a Primitive Methodists ; then
I was a Particular Baptists. IVe tried the Hunt-
ingdon connection, and the Independents, and the
Wesleyans ; but I don't like them. I don't like
any of them. So I stay at home, and read the
Book ; or else I go and hear Mr. Eddrup on Sunday
nights."

" Let me come and talk to you," said Frank.
" You shall tell me more about yourself, if you will.
I promise, at least, not to scoff and sneer at good
things."

" I'm an illiterate man, sir, and you are a gentle-
man, with education and all that, I dare say. But
come when you like."

" Let me come next Sunday evening. You
shall give me some tea," said Frank, in his lordly
way, as if he were inviting himself to a man's rooms
at college.

Mr. Silver looked after him with a puzzled ex-
pression, and went up the steps to dinner.

" A gentleman," he said to Patty, " who doesn't

L

A Matter-of-fact Story. 279

swear and use bad language ; who doesn't look as
if he got drunk ; who doesn't go about with a big
pipe in his mouth : who doesn't seem to mind talk-
ing about religious things. We don't get many
such gentlemen at the Palace of Amusement, do
us ?"

" But, father," said Patty, laying the things out
for dinner, " how does a gentleman come to be
singing in the Palace ? Gentlemen don't sing, do
they, in public places for money ?"

"I never heard of it. I will ask Mr. Eddrup.
Here's dinner. Joey, say grace."

In these early days, Frank thought it best to go
every morning to the Palace. This pleased Mr,
Leweson, who had conceived an immense admira-
tion for his new tenor. He showed this by solemnly
presenting him with a tenor song of his own com-
posing, which Frank sung, after the fourth nigh^ in
place of that song of the domestic affections already
quoted. It was not so popular ; but that, as Mr.
Leweson remarked, was clear proof of its real
worth. Had the loonatics applauded, he ^aid he
should have felt it his duty, as a musi nL

the song in the fire.

Sunday came, and Fraqk bethought

K

28o Ready-money Mortiboy,

invitation to take tea with his new friends. Skimp's
dined at four o'clock on Sundays. After dinner,
Mrs. Skimp went to church, and her boarders chiefly-
amused themselves by playing at billiards. To the
younger portion, the students, there was something
particularly attractive in playing a forbidden game
on Sunday ; to the older ones, the chance of picking
up a few stray sixpences at pool was quite enough
of itself to make them prefer knocking the balls
about to smoking pipes all the evening. Besides,
they could unite the two amusements. Captain
Bowker went to church, to smoothe out his ideas,
he said — though no one understood in the least
what he meant. I think he liked the quiet of
church, where he could abstract his mind from all

4

affairs — spiritual as well as worldly — and compose
his verses. Mr. Eddrup, as usual, appeared at
dinner, ate in silence what was set before him, and
disappeared noiselessly.

Frank found his friends waiting for him — Patty
with an extra ribbon. Her father was sitting with
a Bible before him — ^his one book, which he read at
all times. On Sundays, when he had a clear day
before him, he used to read the Prophecies, apply-
ing them to modern times, and working out all pro-
blems of the present by their light. He had na

A Matter-of-fact Story. 281

books to help him, unless Swedenborg's " Heaven
and Hell" be considered a help. Reading day
after day, as he did, the words had come to have
to him, as they have done to some theologians, a
sort of threefold sense — ^the historic, the prophetic,
and the hidden or inner sense. The pursuit of the
last occupied all his thoughts.

The room was poorly furnished, for the family
income was but small. Three or four chairs, a
table, and a sideboard constituted the whole of it.
No servant was apparent, and Patty and Joe were
up and down the stairs, bringing up the tea things,
laughing and chattering.

" I'm glad to see you, Mr. Melliship," said his
host. " Now, I call this friendly. Patty, my dear,
make haste up with the tea, because it's getting
late."

" It's quite ready, father. We were only waiting
for Mr. Melliship."

Watercresses, and bread and butter. Patty pour-
ing out the tea. Her father with his finger on the
Bible, enunciating things prophetic.

" I was reading what Ezekiel says about the world
in our time, Mr. Melliship."

" Did Ezekiel write about our time ?" asked

382 Ready-mofiey Mortiboy,

Frank, thinking what a pity Patty's hands should
be so spoiled by her acrobatic work.

"All time — every time. I can read, sir, the
events of to-day and to-morrow in his pages, as
plain as I can in a newspaper. I can tell you, if
you like to listen, what is going to happen in the
world before you die.'*

" Tell me," said Frank.

Mr. Silver held up his finger, and began. As he
went on, in short jerky sentences, his eyes wan-
dered from Frank's and fixed themselves in space
— ^the gaze becoming deeper, and the expression as
of one who reads things far off.

"A day of judgment and lamentation, when even
the righteous shall be sifted. Afterwards the good
time. A day of gathering of the nations upon the
earth. The Great Battle — the Final Battle — shall
be fought, after which there shall be no more wars.
The Lord's battle will be fought on the Lord's
battle-field, the'Plain of Esdraelon : the battle of the
people against the priests, and all their power.
After it, the priests shall clothe themselves with
trembling as with a garment. Know," he con-
tinued after a pause, stretching his hand across the
table, and still with his eyes fixed in vacancy —
^' know that, from time long gone by, even from the

A Matter-of-fact Story, 283

days of the Chaldaean who first invented the ac-
cursed thing, the arm of the Lord has been against
the priesthood. There is one nation the enemy of
the human race — the nation of the priests. Whether
they call themselves Catholic, or Anglican, or Dis-
senting, or Heathen, the spirit is alike. It is the
spirit of darkness and tyranny."

" Mr. Melliship, is your tea to your liking V*
whispered Patty.

" It is the spirit of pride and falsehood. Every
dogma that blindfolds men's eyes is the invention
of a priest ; every accursed form of domination is
the invention of the priests ; every evil government
has been maintained by the priests. They have
made the world what it is ; they have substituted
fear for love ; they keep the people ignorant, they
darken counsel, and shut out light."

" Joey, run up and fetch my bonnet," said Patty.

" Then you want to abolish all priests ?" said
Frank, looking with wonder at the religious en-
thusiast.

" I am on the Lord's side," he replied, simply.
" I would that I might live to fight in the Great
Battle when it comes, and to fight against the
priests. Priests ! I am a priest. We are all
priests ; — every man in his own house, as the Patri-

284 Ready-money Mortiboy,

archs were before us. Remember, young man, that
this is no Hght matter. It will be your place to*
take a side — and that before long. Russia is ad-
vancing south, as Ezekiel prophesied. Turkey is
falling to pieces, and will soon be even as she who
was once decked with ornaments — ^with bracelets
on her hands and a chain upon her neck — ^who
went astray and was confounded, as Ezekiel pro-
phesied. All things came from Palestine : all things
go back to Palestine. They are going to make a
railway down the valley of the Euphrates : then
they will rebuild the city of Babylon. In the time
to come, that shall be the city of wealth and trade
— when London will be deserted. The city of the
Lord shall then be rebuilt, too : even the city of
David, with a Temple which shall have no priests.
It shall be the reign of peace. All nations shall
come into the Church, and the millenium shall be
begun. Even so, O Lord : Thy will be done !"

He folded his hands, as he concluded his speech,
in a silent prayer.

" Drink your tea, father," said Patty. " It^s get-
ting cold — and it*s late, besides."

" Where are we going. Miss Silver ?" asked
Frank.

" Miss Silver !" Patty laughed merrily. " I never

^

A Matter-of-fact Story, 285

was called Miss Silver in my life before. Call me
Patty, Mr. Melliship."

" I will, if you will call me Frank."

" Indeed, I shall do nothing of the kind. You
are a gentleman, and don't belong to our rank of
life. Hush ! — don't move. Don't disturb father.
He's often so, after talking about the Bible."

The enthusiast was bent forward, with his eyes

fixed, gazing out of the window. He neither heard

nor saw — he was in a trance. Frank looked at him

anxiously. Then, moved by the impulse of his

artistic nature, he took a book from the table. It

was Patty's hymn-book — and on the fly-leaf began

to sketch her father with his pencil. Patty looked

over his shoulder in speechless admiration. In

three minutes it was done — a rude, rough sketch,

slightly idealized, so as to bring out the noble

ruggedness of the man's brow, the wild depth of his

«

-eyes, the setting of his lips.

" Oh ! it's wonderful," Patty whispered.

" Shall I draw you ?" asked Frank, in a whisper.
^'Sit down, and I will try."

She sat down, blushing; but the next minute
sprang up again, whispering —

"Not to-day — not while father is like that.
Don't speak."

286 Ready-money Mortiboy.

She took the Bible from him, and looked at the
portrait with devouring eyes. Some subtle beauty
the artist had put into the lines which she had
never noticed before in her father's face, and saw it
now for the first time.

They sat for two or three minutes more in silence,
and then Mr. Silver threw his head back with a
sigh, and looked round the room.

" It is late," he said. " Let us go."

" But where are we going ?" asked Frank again.

" Why, to Mr. Eddrup's church, of course."

He followed in astonishment. Who and what
was this Mr. Eddrup, that these people should sa
look up to him }

Patty and he walked together.

" I shall show the picture to father," she said —
"but not to-night: not till the fit is off him. I
suppose you were surprised to find us in such a nice
house } We couldn't afford to rent it, you know ;
Out it's Mr. Leweson's, and he gives it to us for
nothing. We sometimes let lodgings, only I don't
know — it is such a trouble."

" You had better again," said Frank. *' I will be
your lodger."

"Ah! I don't know. "I should like it, you
know," she replied, simply ; " but father's particu-

^

A Matter-of-fact Story. 2S7

lar. You might turn out bad, after all. And then
see where we should be !"

" Well — I haven't turned out very good, so far,"
said Frank, with a sigh.

"Here we are at the church," said Patty, stop-
ping at a door.

CHAPTER THE SEVENTEENTH.

STAIRCASE, steep as a ladder, led to
a long, low room, filled with people.
It might have held about eighty, be-
cause audiences of all kinds, whether
for religion or amusement, pack closely. The
windows were open, because the night was close.
The room was lighted by two or three gas-jets, and
fitted up with benches for the body of the room,
and a foot-high platform for the end. This was
garnished with a rough hand-rail, not for any sepa-
ration of the minister from the people, but for a
leaning-place on which he might rest his hands.
Two or three chairs were on the platform. One of
these was empty. Mr. Silver, leaving Frank in the
hands of his daughter, went to the end, and took

^

A Matter-of-fact Story. 289

the vacant seat with a slight but noticeable air of
pride. The only arm-chair was occupied by Mr.
Eddrup, who was leaning his head on his hands,
motionless.

The people were the common people of the
neighbourhood : rough, coarse men, and rough,
coarse women. They all knew each other, and
occasionally telegraphed salutes with friendly grins.
A few carried babies ; but there were very few
children present, and those only so small as not to
be able to take care of themselves. They whispered
a good deal to each other, but in a hushed, serious
way. Laughter and levity there were none.

The worshippers in this humble Ebenezer were
called, as Frank afterwards discovered, the Primi-
tive Blueskins, by the scoffers in the neighbourhood.
The reason, as told to him, was a queer story,
which may or may not be true. It told how, forty
years ago, before Mr. Eddrup went to the place,
there had been an attempt — a very little one — to
promote in the court some form of Christian
worship. This room, the same in which they
always met, had been fixed upon as the only room
available. It was old and shaky, and it was built
over a dyeing establishment. One cold winter
night, soon after they had formed themselves into

VOL. II. 19

2go Ready-money Mortiboy.

a congregation, the reverend gentleman who con-
ducted their exercises, whether driven by religious
zeal or impelled by the severity of the weather,
enforced his arguments by an unwonted physical
activity, stamping, gesticulating, and even jumping.
He calculated, nintium creduluSy on the strength of
the floor. Alas ! it gave way. The boards broke
beneath the unaccustomed strain. The table, on
which were two candles, was upset ; and, amid the
darkness, the little flock could hear only the groans
of their pastor and the splashing of liquid. The
last flash of the overturning lights had shown him
vanishing through the flooring. They turned and
fled. It was some time before they ventured to
return. But they found their minister blue. He
was dyed : he had fallen into the vat prepared for
an indigo day. Besides this, he was half frozen.
After this the congregation dispersed. Nor was it
till Mr. Eddrup came that they reassembled ; and
when they did, the nickname stuck to them still.

Patty pulled Frank by the arm, and they humbly
took the lowest places of all, the very last, with
their backs against the wall.

"It's going to begin directly," whispered the
girl. "You must look over my hymn book.
There s Mr. Eddrup.' '

A Matter-of-fact Story, 291

As she spoke, the old man rose and advanced to
the front of the platform, grasping the rail.

" If any have aught to say" — he spoke a kind of
formula-^** let him or her now say it"

A labouring man rose up, and incoherently
delivered himself of a few short and unconnected
sentences. Then he sat down, perspiring. He
had an idea which he wanted to set forth, but
language was too strong for him, and he had
failed.

Mr. Eddrup looked round again. No one else
spoke. Then he took a hymn book, and gave out
a number. They took their hymns, like their tea,
sitting ; but sang with none the less fervour.

Then their leader — ^for such Mr. Eddrup was —
rose to address them, with his hands on the rail,
his head held down, and his white hair falling for-
ward in a long mass that almost hid his face.

" Into what queer world have I dropped V'
thought Frank. " A religious trapeze family ; a
man who lives at Skimp 's, and preaches to people ;
I myself, who sing at a music hall, and come here
on Sundays. It all seems very irregular."

Mr. Eddrup, still looking on the ground, with his
long, white hair hanging about him, began his dis-
course in a slow, hesitating way, as if he was

19 — 2

292 Ready-money Mortiboy.

feeling, not for ideas, but for fitting words to put
them in. Presently he warmed a little with his
subject, and lifting his head, spoke in clearer and
fuller tones. His audience went with him, devour-
ing every word he said. They were wise words.
He spoke of the everyday life of a religious man,
of the temptations that beset the poor, of the
strength which comes of resistance. He had that
native eloquence which comes of earnestness. He
wished to say the right thing in the most forcible
way. So, when he had found the right thing, he
took the simplest words that lay to his hand, and
the readiest illustration. Socrates did the same.
A higher than Socrates did the same. He talked
to them for two hours. During all that time, not
a soul stirred. All eyes were fixed upon the
speaker. There was no interruption, save now and
again when a woman sobbed. It was not that he
told them the hackneyed things that preachers love
to dwell upon — the general phrases, the emotional
doctrines ; all these Mr. Eddrup passed by. He
told them unpalatable things : little things : things
which are a perpetual hindrance to the progress of
the soul, which yet seem to have nothing to do
with the soul. He laid down directions for them
which showed that he knew exactly all their cir-

A Matter-of-fact Story. 293

cumstances. He showed them how religion is a
flower that grows upon all soils alike, nourished by
the same sun which shines upon rich and poor.
And, lastly — in a peroration which made the ears
of those that heard to tingle — he proclaimed the
infinite love of the Creator. He stopped suddenly,
sat down, and was silent.

They sang a hymn, and the people went away.

"Tell me the meaning of it," asked Frank of
Patty. " Who and what is Mr. Eddrup ?"

" Come away, and I will tell you. Father likes
to have a chat with him of a Sunday night. Come,
Joey. He came here*," said Patty, "forty years
ago and more. He was a young man, IVe been
told, and strong ; but he was always very sad and
silent. He began by searching out; — always in this
court — the poor children, and getting them to
school in the morning. He taught it himself, and
gave them bread and tea for breakfast People
liked that, you know, and the children liked it.
Then he got to having the men to evening school
at eight o'clock. A few of them went. The court
was the most awful place, I've been told, in all
London. Mr. Eddrup was robbed a dozen times
going away at night — beaten, too, and ill-treated.
But he always came again next day, just as if

294 Ready-money Mortiboy^

nothing had happened. They do say that nothing
would make him prosecute a thief. So when the
boys found there was no danger and no fun in
stealing his handkerchief or knocking him down, of
course they left off. Well, so it went on, you see.
Gradually, the court got better. Mr. Eddrup got
the houses into his own hands by degrees — ^because
he's a very well-to-do man, you know — and made
them clean. They were pigsties before. He never
turned anybody out ; never sold up their sticks for
rent ; always waited and waited — and, they say, he
always gets paid."

" Has he turned the people into angels, then ?"

" No. I don't say that. But they're better than
the run of people. He has made them a religious
lot which was the most dreadful lot in all London.
Parsons come here now, and want the people to go
to church. Not they. So long as Mr. Eddrup
preaches in the little chapel, there they go."

"All this must cost him nioney as well as
time."

" He spends all he's got, whatever that may be,
Mr. Melliship, on the poor. I've been told that he
never takes anything stronger than water, and has
only one room to himself, all to have more for the
poor people."

A Matter-of-fact Story, 295

" Some of that is true, I know," said Frank.

" Oh ! those flowers," cried Patty as they passed
a flower girl. " How sweet they smell !"

" Let me give you some," said Frank.

Now, Patty had never had any flowers given her
before. It was a new sensation that a man — or
anybody, indeed — should pay her attentions. She
went home with her present, and put the flowers in
water. If Frank had been able to see how care-
fully those poor flowers were watered, and how
long they lasted! It will be understood at once
that Patty's stage career had been very different to
that of most young ladies of her profession.
Always with her father, taken by him to the
theatre, brought home by him, she was as domestic
a little bird as any in all this great wilderness of
houses.

"Poor Patty!" thought Frank as he walked
home. " A dreary life for her to risk her life every
night for so many shillings or pounds a-week ; to
have no lovers, like other girls ; no pleasure but to
go and hear Mr. Eddrup preach."

Mr. Eddrup had returned when he reached home,
and was sitting, silent as usual, in the drawing-
room with Captain Bowker — who had his long pipe
alight, and his glass of rum and water before him.

296 Ready-money Mortiboy.

" You were there to-night," said the old preacher.
" The Silvers brought you."

"They did," said Frank. "Thank you very
much."

Captain Bowker smoked on. He was in a medi-
tative mood.

" I went once," he said, " myself. Should have
gone again, but I saw one of my last old crew
there. Couldn't go and sit on the same bench with
him, you know. Stations must be observed. Mr.
Melliship, it's just as well to say that Mr. Eddrup
here doesn't care to have his Sunday evening's
occupation known."

" Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame,"
said Frank.

" No, Mr. Melliship — no," replied the old man,
sadly. " There has never been a time when I have
not been beset by temptation to be proud of a
trifling piece of work like mine. I should like to
be famous, if only in the smallest way. But I
pray against it. I formed the resolution very long
ago, that there was only one course for me in life
— to go through it as noiselessly as I could, to do
as little mischief as possible, to resent no injury."

" But why r asked Frank. " Why ?"

" Some day I will tell you, perhaps. Not now.

A Matter-of-fact Story, 297

I am glad you came to hear me talk to my people,
Mr. Melliship. It is a long time since we have had
a — anybody but my own people. It does them
good to see strangers. Let me look at your face,
sir."

Frank held his face, smiling, to the light, while
the old man walked feebly — Frank noticed how
very feeble he was after his exertions in the chapel
— to the chair where he sat, and looked at him
steadily.

" There is the seal of innocence, and the seal of
guilt. This is the seal of innocence. Keep it,
young man. Look at mine. Do you see no-
thing ?"

" Nothing," said Frank.

Mr. Eddrup sighed, and sat down again. A few
minutes afterwards he stole out of the room, and
slipped upstairs to bed.

" He's often like that," said Captain Bowker.
"Something on his mind. I had a cook aboard
the Merry Moonshine once, used to sit all day long,
and never speak to a soul. Took a fancy to a
Lascar, and would sometimes talk to him. No one
else, mind. One day he up with the chopper, and
buried it three inches in the Lascar's head. Then,
before you could say Jack Robinson, over he went

298 Ready-money Mortiboy.

— ship going ten knots. Lascar dead in a minute.
Mr. Eddrup's took a fancy to you /"

" That's a cheerful sort of story to tell. Do you
think Mr. Eddrup may be tempted to do something
rash with the carving knife V*

" I can't say," said the Captain, solemnly. " No
one can say what another man will do, or what ter-
rible thing may happen to him. I've been married
myself."

" Then you may be married again."

" Lord forbid ! There's ghosts again. I suppose
you never saw a ghost T

" Never."

"Nor more did I. But Vwefelt one, young man^
I've been beat black and blue by a ghost. Rum
thing, that was."

" Tell it me."

" There it is, you see. You get making me sit up
spinning my yams when I ought to be in my berth.
Sunday night, too. Well, I'll tell you this'one. It
was forty years ago. I was a midshipman aboard
an East Indiamari. We'd had bad weather, and put
into Port Louis to refit ; — for the matter of that, we
always put in there in the good old days. I was
ashore with two or three more, drinking, as boys
will, in the verandah of an hotel there. There was

A Matter-of-fact Story. 299

a chap, an Englishman, with a solemn face and
a long nose, got talking to us. I remember his
hatchet jaws now. Presently he whispers across the
little table—

" * I want two or three plucky fellows. Will you
come T

" * What for V we asked him.

" * Money,* says he. ' Treasure.*

" * Do you know where it is ?' I said.

" * I do,' says he.

" * Then why don't you get it yourself T says I.

" That seemed to fix him a bit. Then he says —

" * Because I can't do it alone, and I won't trust
anybody but English sailors. It's money buried by
the pirates up in the hillside over there. I know the
exact spot. There is a story going about that the
place is haunted ; but we aint afraid of ghosts, I
should hope.'

"We agreed for next night, if we could get leave,
and went aboard again. All that day and the next
we were talking it over. The mate heard us. He
came up to me laughing —

" *So you're not afraid of ghosts, are you.?*

" However, we got our leave, and went ashore.
The mate went too.

"It's dark in those latitudes between six and seven.

300 * Ready-money Mortiboy.

and at that time we met our long-nosed friend. He
had got pickaxes and a lantern, and led the way.
There were four of us altogether. We had to pick
our way, when we left the path^ over stones and
and through bushes ; and, what was very odd, I
kept on thinking I heard steps behind us. Being
only a slip of a boy, I begins to get nervous. Pre-
sently our guide stopped.

** * Here we are,' he says ; and, pointing to a place
under a tree, he hangs up the lantern, and takes off
his coat and began to dig. * Now boys,* he says, *as
quick as you can.*

" We fell to with a will. It was a precious hot
night, and the ground was hard ; but we made a hole
in it after a bit, and then at it tooth and nail. Five
minutes after we began, I looked up to straighten
my back, and found the lantern gone.

" * Who*s unshipped the light V I says.

" We all looked round. There was a young moon
to give us a little light, but no lantern. I, for one,
felt queer. However, we all went on again without
saying a word. We got a hole two foot deep, and
were all in it. Then one of my mates wants to know
how long the job*s going to last.

" * Perhaps,' he says, *the ghosts have sunk it fifty
fathoms deep.*

^

A Matter-of-fact Story. 301

"'Ghosts be d d/ said lantern jaws. *Dig

away, boys/

" Then we heard a laugh close by us.

" * Ho !— ho !— ho !*

" It was a curious place for echoes among the
rocks, and the laugh went ringing round and round
till you thought i^ was never going to stop. We
all stopped for a bit.

" 'Go on,* says our leader. * They can't do more
than laugh.'

" With that another laugh, louder than the first.
However, we went on. Then I heard steps ; and look-
ing up, I saw three or four figures over the hole.

" * Lord !' I cried. * Here's the ghosts.'

"Well, I hadn't hardly time to sing out, when
whack, whack came half a dozen sticks on our heads
and backs, and we all tumbled together. I suppose
the sticks went at us for five minutes in all. When
they stopped, I got up the first, grabbed my jacket,
hanging on the tree, and legged it, tumbling over the
rocks, and scratching myself in the bushes, as fast
as ever mortal man ran in his life. The rest all came
after me. What became of mealy face, I don't know.
P'raps the ghosts finished him off.

" Half an hour after we got to the port, the mate
came up with three friends. They were all laughing
at some joke of theirs.

302

Ready-money Mortiboy.

"'Well, my lads/ says he, *did you see any
ghosts ?'

" No one answered, and they all laughed louder.

"The oddest thing of all, Mr. Melliship," con-
cluded Captain Bowker, laying his pipe-stem impres*
sively on Frank's hand, " was that next morning my
cap, which I had left behind in the hole, was found
in the boat Now, Iww did that get there V^

K

CHAPTER THE EIGHTEENTH.

pointed.

WORD about Parkside, where Grace

Heathcote sat waiting and hoping.

It is the way of things, A man works

and hopes, and is sure to be disap-

A woman waits and hopes, generally

getting disappointed too.

Dull enough it was, and quiet, unless when Cou-
sin Dick was with them. The Heathcote girls were
—by right of education — not of position — some-
thing better than the commonplace young ladies of
the quiet market town. They saw little of them,
and made few friends. Moreover, they were five
miles away from Market Basing, so that they were
practically thrown upon their own resources. That
meant that they talked, and made each other un-

304 Ready-mofuy Mortiboy.

happy. This, I believe, is not uncommon in En-
glish households — ^that sweet domesticity on which
we pride ourselves covering an infinite amount of
petty miseries, tiny bullyings, naggings, and prickings
with tongues as sharp as needles. Sister against
sister — mother against daughter. They love each
other fondly, of course, because they are always
supposed to love each other: domestic affection
being as necessary in modem life as a shirt to one's
back. Unfortunately, the love which reigns in the
dear home life does not always bring with it that
tenderness for each other's sensitive points which
keeps out of the house ill-humours and sour tem-
pers. The lower classes of England — I do not
mean the very lowest — are much superior to the
middle classes in this respect. I have found out
the reason why. They don't sit at home so much.
In London, they are always going to the theatre,
which is almost the only amusement for the class
who frequent the pit, and are not above the galler}^
In the country, they go out and about as much as
they can.

Now, Grace Heathcote had a large share not
only of fidelity, but of obstinacy, which she in-
herited from her father. A woman's fidelity is
very often like one of those plants which flourish

k

* A Matter-of-fact Story, 305

best covered up and hidden. Grace's prospered
best openly — in the sunshine — and was able to
grow and flourish even against the east winds of
her mother's opposition. To her, Frank was a
hero. It seemed noble in him to go away into a
sort of hiding — working, as she imagined, to pay
off* his father's liabilities, and hoping to come back
after many months to claim her promised hand.
This she thought, and this she said when, as hap-
pened not infrequently, her mother turned the talk
upon Frank.

To Lydia Heathcote, Frank seemed as a fool.
And she said so. For she was determined on one
thing : her daughter should marry Dick Mortiboy-
She saw that Grace attracted him. She was sure —
for she meant well by her daughter — that he would
make a good husband. She wanted to secure all
that money of his for her own children. She was
wise as well as determined. She knew that as the
constant dropping of water wears away the hardest
rock, so the constant insinuations of distrust and
suspicion wear away the fondest woman's trust.
Therefore she talked a good deal about Frank ;
repeated and reiterated her grief that he was doing
so badly, as she assumed; pointed out how foolish

it was to go away from his friends, and those who
VOL. II. 20

306 Ready-money Mortibqy.

would help him to a decent position; hinted that
it would be so much better if he were to emigrate,
and follow the example of his cousin Dick ; never
failed to shed tears over the enumeration of dear
Dick's many virtues, as contrasted with the failings
and weaknesses of Frank; and always ended by
reproachfully sighing over her daughter, as over one
who trifles with a good man's love.

" But, mamma, Frank will get on, Tm sure.
Kate said in her letter she knew he was doing well.
He is very clever. He can paint beautifully; and
it was only the other evening, at the rectory, that
Mr. Nelson said artists were just as well off as any
other professional men, and as well thought of. If
he likes painting better than anything else, and
sees his way to get on, why should he not be an
artist ?"

" Nonsense, child," was her mother's answer to
Grace's special pleading. And then Mrs. Heath-
cote explained, for the hundredth time, the reasons
why Frank could never, by any possibility, be in a
position to marry. " Besides, if Kate knows he is
doing very well in London, it is a strange thing
they don't know where he lives. You know, your
father would write to him if he knew where to find
him. But we couldn't even give Dick his address

^

A Matter-of-fact Story, 307

before he went to town. Such a want of respect-
ability about having no address ! It's no use,
Grace ; I know perfectly well that the boy is doing
no good for himself, else why not let his friends
know his address ?"

" I am not going to listen," sai^ Grace, indig-
nantly, " to things like that. You have no right to
say such things of Frank."

"There — ^there, Grace, do be reasonable. It is
all for your own good that I speak. If yx)ur own
mother does not know the world, who should.^
Why, before I married your fiaither, there were
two or three people I fancied. Young Spriggs,
the brewer, who failed for thirty thousand pounds,
and cut his throat — I might have had him. Mr.
Potterton, of Wyncote — ^he's got an asthma now :
you can hear him a mile off, poor man. And old
Mr. Humbledum, who died of drink last week —
why, people used to talk about us. That was be-
fore I met your father. And look at Dick — ^poor
Dick ! — ^head over ears in love with you."

" To begin with, he is nothing of the sort. And
if he were, it would be nothing to me.*

** I can see it, girl," said Mrs. Heathcote, wisely

nodding her head. ** I've seen it for months now.

I think it is — I suppose it doesn't matter what I

20—2

*»!-#"

give falls diesl^;fatest
F :*^r i6Ixym^ jtcg eight be even petite to

ii 2 tattoo oc tSae carpet vidi her foot,
brjt said r»:chi3g-

~ I celv b-?oe he does not notice it so modi as I
do. r\^ :>3 pRtfeace vith yoor &tfaer; he's as
ea5>' as 21: ok: sboe abcx:t tfaingSL If he'd told you
tc gh-e Frank up vhen they left — *

"Mamma!' cried Giace. her chedc reddening
and her e>*e fiashi:^ bi^htly. MrsL Heathcote was
a little afraid of her dai^hter when she looked like
that. She saw she had gone a little too far — not
for the first time. "Mamma, how dare you "

The door opened and Mr. Heathcote came into
the room. Grace fell into his arms, and, with her
head on his shoulder, sobbed like a child. She
would not ha\*e broken out if they had remained
alone.

"Lydia," said Mr. Heathcote angrily, "what
have you been saying to Grace ? Never mind,
my child — ^never mind"

" Really, John," said his wife, " you and Grace
together are enough to wear out the patience of
Job," and she swept out of the room.

And so on. Scenes that happened not once, but

A Matter-of-fact Story, 309

often. And with each one Grace became obstinate,
and her mother more irritating. Lucy was made
unhappy. The farmer was made unhappy : that
was nothing. Civil war raged in Parkside Farm,
and the contest was maintained on terms of perfect
equality, in which Grace, shielded by a stubborn re-
solution, received all her mother*s blows, and only
occasionally retaliated with words which had more
of sharpness than of filial piety. Dick brought
peace for the time, and there was renewed war
when he was gone.

A truce was held on a tacit understanding, while
Mrs. Heathcote tried to play off Lucy on Dick.
This was, however, quite hopeless. First, Dick did
not like women to be gentle and soft. He liked a
girl with a fine high temper of her own, and a will,
like Grace ; and, secondly, Lucy did not like Dick
so much as Grace did. From her constant visits
to old Ready-money, she found out, by the old
man's frowns when Dick came to see him,
that there was something he had done. Of course,
she knew nothing positive ; but she had strong
suspicions that all was not quite right between the
father and the son. Her frequent absences in
Derngate made matters even worse for Grace.

As for moving Farmer John out of his jog-trot

3IO Ready-money Mortiboy.

ways, nothing could do that He was quite ready
to help Frank with money or counsel — ^for the
Heathcotes were very well to do ; but he was not
going to put himself out of the way, and hunt
him up. Let Frank come to him. Frank did not go
to him : made no sign : and Grace*s heart began
to fail her.

Village affairs lost their interest The rheumatics
of the old women found her callous : their com-
plaints fell on cold ears. She went through the
daily routine of her small duties without interest
When her mother^ the day's business finished,
about ten or eleven — they breakfasted at eight —
took her seat for the day, she tried to escape to
her own room, or to the garden. She could some-
times — ^when Silly Billy could be spared to blow
the organ — ^take refuge in the church. Her mother
disliked music in the morning, so she could not play.
Her pony was lame, and she could not ride. Mrs.
Heathcote never drove out, except to town : like
most country ladies, thinking very little of the lovely
foliage and shady lanes of her own shire.

Sometimes one of the Battiscombe girls stayed
with them — then they played croquet in the after-
noon ; Lord Launton very often finding something
to say to Mr. Heathcote, which made it quite

A Matter-of-fact Story. 311

natural for him to stop and play with them till the
dressing-bell rang at the Towers. Itwas curious that
he found business which brought him to Park-side
three or four times a-week. He came in on any
pretext, always about the same time — croquet
time ; stayed as long as he could, and almost forgot
his shyness. Dick Mortiboy at first made him
shrink into his shell ; but he managed to creep
out again gradually, and came to like him. Dick
took a fancy to the shy young fellow; talked to
him ; told him stories — Dick always had the rea-
diest perception of what kind of story would suit
his listener : this was one great secret of his popu-
larity — and pleased the viscount by not deferring
to him in the slightest degree because he was a
lord.

So life went on ; — Grace sad and unhappy ; her
mother angry and disappointed ; all playing at
cross-purposes — as we always do ; all acting a part
to the world — as we always do ; all putting a good
face on things — as of course we must. And do
not quarrel with Grace when you read her letters
to Kate, because they seem bright and happy. I
knew a man once who wrote the brightest, gayest,
happiest letter — full of mirth, and fun, and good

312 Ready-money Mortiboy.

spirits — a quarter of an hour before he blew out
his brains. Letters mean nothing, except that they
are sometimes a natural relief to the heart, and the
effort of pleasing a friend gives you good spirits in
spite of yourself

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